


a barista and a businessman

by stylinsondrabbles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AT LAST IT IS COMPLETED, Anal Sex, Baristas, Bottom Harry, Businessman Louis, Drunk Harry, Fingering, M/M, Phone Sex, Power Bottom, Smut, Starbucks, chapter 3 will be essentially all smut, does this count as angst?, harry can't stand him, harry thinks he's clever, liam is louis' business partner, louis is an asshole, pls don't be mad at me i know it's been 2 years, prompt from an au list on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsondrabbles/pseuds/stylinsondrabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a barista at Starbucks in the business district, and one day a pompous asshole named Louis walks in on his phone and just continuously pisses Harry off.</p><p>Louis calls Harry "Curly" and thinks he's a very important businessman, but Harry thinks he's just a dick who doesn't know how to hang up his phone.</p><p>Thinking he's clever, Harry purposefully misspells Louis' name every time he comes in. Louis is not okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys. This was completely prompted from a prompt of AUs on tumblr, but I cannot figure out how to post a direct link to it on here? If anyone can tell me how, that'd be really awesome. I kind of want to write all of the prompts on there honestly.

Day one and Harry _already_ knew Louis was a fucking narcissistic asshole. At that time, though, Harry didn’t even know his name. He would soon enough. He came through the line at Starbucks at 7:30 AM, far too early for Harry to be even remotely happy about the impatient people tapping their feet while they waited in line.

 

Louis was talking on his cell phone, loudly, like the ass he is. He was fourth in line and Harry could already hear him babbling, so goddamn ostentatiously, in the otherwise peaceful shop. Sure, it was Starbucks, so there was weird techno music playing softly over the speakers that did not really fit the early commuter attitude of all the businessmen and women that crowded into the small space, but, even with all the commotion going on around him, Harry could still pick up on the little remarks Louis made to whomever was on the other end of the line.

 

“No, that needs to be done today.” “How the hell would I know?” “Tell her to get her shit together, then, mate, not my problem.” “Have you quite finished?”

 

Harry glared at him at that last one. Louis was too busy looking at his watch in impatience to notice, though.

 

Plenty of business people came through his line everyday, considering this location was in the heart of the Business District in London -- prime for moneymaking suckers willing to pay $4 for a small coffee. And most of them came in their suits and skirts, and Harry paid no attention to it. Louis’ outfit, however, may have captured his eye more than he’d like to admit. He had on a form-fitting black suit jacket over a crimson tee shirt that peeked out the top of the jacket. His pants were excruciatingly tight black skinny jeans, and his red Vans with no visible socks finished off his whole look. It was definitely more casual than Harry was used to seeing, and Louis looked no older than 27, but he just would not _shut up,_ yammering into his phone. A total turn off.

 

When the customer in front of this then-mystery-man finished placing his order, Harry thought Louis would at least put his phone call on hold to place his order, but he was mistaken.

 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Harry asked, trying very hard to fake a smile.

 

“I understand that, Liam, but I don’t think you genuinely get the importance of this meeting,” Louis said, making eye contact briefly with Harry as he spoke.

 

Harry almost let out a shocked scoff. This guy was standing at his counter, looking him in the eye, clearly aware he was holding the line up, and he still had the fucking audacity to just keep talking into his cell phone.

 

“Right, right,” Louis had continued after a short pause.

 

“Sir,” Harry began. He was cut off when Louis quickly glanced up, blue eyes positively piercing, glaring at Harry like _he_ was the one in the wrong. Harry wanted to throw this guy’s phone into one of the blenders.

 

“I just need a venti caramel Macchiato, extra drizzle on top,” Louis said, making eye contact with Harry.

 

Harry stood a bit in disbelief. This guy—this _asshole_ —didn’t even apologize for his blatantly rude behavior, and Harry really wanted to ask him to just fuck off. It was his job, unfortunately, to pull out a cup and pick his Sharpie, though. It took him a bit too long to move at first, debating whether or not he actually wanted to serve this dickwad, but his manager was suddenly standing behind him, asking if he needed any help. Harry just shook his head, never breaking eye contact with Louis and hoping his eyes showed how icy he felt inside.

 

“Name?” Harry asked, his sass anything but playful. He almost flinched when Louis smiled at him.

 

“Louis,” he replied, “with an ‘o-u-i.’”

 

People often spelled out their names to Harry, making sure he could understand all their weird misspellings of otherwise common names, but Harry really did not like the look on Louis’ face as he spelled it out to him. He could practically hear the self-righteousness in each letter, and suddenly he was fuming.

 

He quickly marked the “CM” in the drink box and the “x drizzle” under the custom line, but he paused when he moved to the top to write his name. His other writing had been fairly sloppy with anger, but he made sure to make what he was about to write as legible as possible. “L-e-w-i-s” is what he wrote, smirking a bit to himself.

 

He turned away, setting the drink in line on the counter to be made, and he turned back to Louis. This time it was both of them with smug smiles on their faces.

Harry punched in a few buttons on the screen, relaying the price to Louis as he leaned against the counter, so ready for this asshole to be out of his line. Louis fished into his back pocket, pulling out his shiny leather billfold and what looked like a Spiderman lighter.

 

Harry bit back every urge in his body to tap his fingers against the counter, waiting for Louis to find his cash.

 

“Yeah, I’m about to head that way,” Louis said into his phone, placing the lighter back into his pocket.

 

“Of course,” Louis continued as he opened his wallet. He let out a loud laugh at something Liam—was that his name?—said on the phone. It just turned up Harry’s body heat, his blood seconds away from boiling through his skin.

 

“Yeah, he is,” Louis said as he _finally_ pulled out his credit card, eyeing Harry up and down as he handed it to him. Harry hoped he was giving the best scowl he could when Louis locked eyes with him.

 

Harry swiped the card as aggressively as he could, keeping his eyes on Louis’ as he did. Louis sneered back at him as the credit card basically tore through the scanner. Resisting the urge to reach over the counter and strangle him, Harry handed him back his card.

 

“Thanks…Harry.” Louis glanced down at Harry’s nametag, and Harry wished more than anything that he wasn’t wearing that stupid piece of plastic. This bag of dicks didn’t deserve to know anything about him.

 

“Anytime,” Harry replied through gritted teeth as Louis finally walked away. Harry’s muscles remained tensed as the next few customers went through his line, all much nicer than the guy who managed to ruin his mood when his day had barely even begun.

 

Each time Harry went to place another customer’s cup on the counter, he checked for Louis’ cup. He felt prouder of himself every time he saw the misspelled name, and he wanted to make sure to see Louis’ expression when he saw the name.

 

“Lewis?” Harry heard one of the other baristas say when he was in the middle of writing on another customer’s cup. His ears immediately perked to the sound, and his shoulders tensed again as he looked up. Louis was somehow _still_ blathering like an idiot into his phone when he approached the counter where his drink was waiting for him.

 

He let his phone rest between his ear and shoulder as he reached for a cup sleeve, and, although Harry couldn’t hear what he was saying into the phone (thank God), he didn’t miss the way Louis visibly stopped mid-sentence as he lifted the cup to place the sleeve on. He must have seen the name, because he was suddenly looking over at Harry.

 

Harry gulped, unsure why he was suddenly worried, and he tried to remain expressionless as he looked at the perplexed and somewhat angry looking Louis. His eyes were narrowed, and Harry didn’t miss the tight line his lips went into as he reached to hold his phone back to his ear. He then picked up his cup, made sure Harry was still looking at him, and he licked his lips. Harry pursed his own lips at that, no clue what Louis meant by that, but he didn’t have time to care anyway. The line was steadily growing, and he looked away to ring up his customer.

 

He must have missed Louis walking out of the store, because the next time he looked up he was nowhere in sight.

 

*****

 

Louis showed up again three days later. Harry heard him before he saw him, though. He was busy talking to a trainee when he heard Louis’ distinct voice—his accent clearly meant wasn’t from around here. His eyes shot up almost involuntarily, and he regretted it the instant his eyes met Louis’ cold blue ones.

 

The shorter man continued talking into his phone as he smirked at Harry, and Harry had to make sure he wasn’t openly gawking at him. Why the fuck was he back in here?

 

Harry genuinely considered just walking out of the shop, already annoyed as Louis talked about his schedule into his phone, boisterous as ever.

 

The shop was a bit slower than the last time Louis came in, but he still had to wait behind a few people as Harry tried to keep his mouth from frowning. Harry couldn’t help but glance up as he moved from customer to customer, and every time he did he was met with Louis’ gaze, like he never looked away.

 

“Why should that matter?” Louis was asking as he walked up to Harry’s register.

 

Harry could see some of Louis’ tattoos showing through the low neck-line of his navy shirt, and Harry wondered if he had one that warned people he was an obnoxious asshole tattooed somewhere on him. If not, he should, because people should have that information upfront if they couldn’t pick it up from his attitude.

 

“Hello,” was all Harry said this time. Louis clearly recognized him, and he was far from trying to be polite towards him.

 

“Can you have it done by noon?” Louis asked, running his hands along the edge of the counter.

 

Harry sucked on his teeth, his hands turning into fists below the counter as he considered the option of punching the bloke standing across from him.

 

“Venti caramel Macchiato with extra drizzle,” Louis said next, not even moving the receiver away from his mouth.

 

Harry licked over his teeth behind his lips, wanting so badly to just refuse service until he hung up the phone. They unfortunately had no sign saying the customers had to pause their conversations, mainly because it’s just common fucking courtesy, and Harry didn’t think assholes like Louis would be going through his line any day.

 

Marking the order on the cup, Harry looked up at Louis again. The odd lighting over the counter left his cheekbones standing out astoundingly well against the rest of his face, and Harry wondered what it would be like to punch one of them.

 

“Name?” Harry asked dryly. His back was straight up, clenched in annoyance as he eyed Louis.

 

“Louis. With an ‘o-u-i,’” he spelled out, just like last time.

 

Harry smiled to himself, trying to hide it as he looked down to write on the cup. He wanted to be more original than last time, so he wrote “L-u-w-i-s-s.” He almost wrote a smiley face after it, but he controlled his smugness and just turned to place the cup next to the others.

 

Louis was talking about some other bullshit when Harry went back to the register, and he almost snapped his fingers in front of Louis’ face to get him to shut up.

 

Harry told him his total in the middle of Louis talking on the phone; he was not even going to try to accommodate this behavior anymore. Louis looked a bit shocked at Harry’s little outburst, and he cut himself off mid-sentence. Harry wasn’t even listening to what he was saying anymore, all of it was just loud, stupid shit and he was not having any of it today. He saw Louis look down at his white-knuckled fists on the counter, and he immediately pulled them back, out of view.

 

“Alright, calm down, Curly,” Louis said, his voice a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Harry was sure his mouth fell open at that.

 

“What did you just say?” Harry’s breathing was picking up. Even his toes were starting to grip in his shoes; every muscle in his body was reacting so negatively towards the son of a bitch in front of him.

 

“Nothing,” Louis said, laughing a bit. Harry wasn’t sure if that was meant for him or the person on the phone, but either way he could feel his heart rate speed up with anger. He couldn’t say much else, though, because right then Louis handed him his credit card. He hadn’t even seen him take his wallet out, but he may have missed it when he was thinking of all the ways to murder him with the espresso machine.

 

Harry didn’t say a single word to him as he handed him back his card, mainly because if he did he knew it would likely be a swear word. And he was not about to get in trouble with management over some egotistical, strong-jawed, asshole.

 

“Thank you,” Louis said, nodding briefly in Harry’s direction as he put the card pack in his wallet.

 

“No, he’d probably bust an artery at that,” Louis said into the receiver, still standing at the register as he stuffed his wallet into his back pocket. He slowly took a step back from the counter, and he dragged his eyes down from Harry’s eyes to the bottom of his green apron, then back up to his face. Harry scrunched his eyebrows together, but then Louis just walked away. He shook his head, trying to clear the rage out as he motioned for the next customer to come up.

 

Louis’ face when he saw the misspelled name this time made Harry almost squeal in giddiness. He kept it toned down to a small, lopsided smile for the time being, though.

 

Louis’ jaw opened in disbelief briefly when we read the scrawled letters across his cup, and his eyes flew over to where Harry stood, his face showing that he knew very well that that wasn’t how Louis spelled his name—how anyone spelled their name, honestly.

 

The phone was still pressed to his ear as he said something to it Harry couldn’t hear from this distance, but Louis never looked away from Harry’s gaze. He saw Louis shake his head, and then he started walking back in the direction of the register. Harry’s heart rate simultaneously sped to an alarming rate, and he tried to keep his eyes on the customer in front of him. His peripherals were on high alert, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Louis was simply reaching for a stirrer.

 

Louis babbled on about some meeting as he stood near the register, aimlessly stirring his drink. Harry rolled his eyes to no one in particular, waiting for the next customer to come up so he could try to ignore Louis.

 

 

*****

 

Harry knew he let out a small groan when he saw Louis walk in two days later. He thought he might have seen the last of him after that last time, but nope, here came the idiot sauntering into the place like he owned it.

 

He thought Louis must have been giving himself some sort of radiation poisoning due to the fact that he had never seen the man without his phone pressed against his ear. Fucking prick.

 

Harry almost didn’t notice that there was someone with him, probably due to the fact that Louis wasn’t talking to him, just to his phone. He only realized the two of them were in line together when he saw Louis abruptly move his phone away from his ear, placing his hand over the bottom, before he asked the taller, brown-haired (and incredibly fit) guy next to him something.

 

Eyeing the other person up from behind the counter, Harry wondered if that was one of Louis’ coworkers. At that moment, he saw Louis’ move his hand from over the phone go to grasp the other guy’s bicep through his suit jacket. Louis laughed at whatever he had said, absentmindedly petting the fabric as he responded. Harry lowered his eyebrows, lips pursing together as he watched the interaction. Was someone actually dating this fuckwad?

 

The line seemed to move quicker than usual, and soon enough the two of them were standing in front of him. Louis had his phone by his ear, but he must have just been listening because, for _once_ , he wasn’t blathering on into it.

 

“Morning,” the mystery man next to him said, nodding to Harry.

 

“Hi, what can I get for you two?” Harry asked tentatively. He kept his eyes on the taller one, feeling almost afraid to meet Louis’ gaze.

 

“Well,” Louis said, ruining Harry’s plan of not looking at him. “He’ll have a grande black tea lemonade.”

 

Harry’s eyes darted between the two of them; Louis had placed his hand back on the other guy’s arm when he spoke. He removed it when Harry cleared his throat.

 

“What’s the name?” Harry readied his marker over the cup.

 

“Liam,” the taller bloke said. The name rang some dull bell in the back of Harry’s mind, but he couldn’t quite remember why.

 

“Alright,” Harry said, chewing the inside of his cheek as he wrote it out on the cup.

 

“And I,” Louis continued, sounding extremely self-assured and annoying, “will have a tall caramel Frappuccino.”

 

“Name?” Harry asked, making sure he sounded as unenthusiastic and nonchalant as he could.

 

“Louis. L-o-u-i-s,” he said. Harry had to try hard not to grin as Louis spelled out the entirety of his name, and he debated about whether or not he should just write it correctly this time. After all, he hadn’t technically talked on the phone at the register—

 

“You alright, Curly?” Louis asked, eyeing as Harry sat with the Sharpie hovering over the cup. Harry’s eyes jumped up to Louis’. Every ounce of hatred flooded back into his body at those three words, and he didn’t even respond to Louis, hoping his glower answered for him. “L-o-o-u-e-s-s” is what Harry wrote that time, but he didn’t smile at it. He just tried to keep himself from crushing the cup in his hand before he placed it on the counter.

 

Louis had his credit card out and ready by the time Harry pulled the total up, and for some reason that pissed Harry off more than it should have. He was just so smug. So pompous. And everything he did just made Harry want to strangle him more.

 

He didn’t even bother to say the total out loud, simply sliding the card through at a dramatic speed; his wrist almost hit the computer at how hard he swiped it. He thought he heard a chuckle from above him, and he quickly glanced up to make sure it wasn’t at him. He was met with Louis smirking at him, his head shaking back and forth ever so slightly.

 

“Have a great day,” Harry heard Liam say when they walked off. He didn’t look away from Louis, though. Louis even walked backwards for a few steps, holding his pretentious gaze while Harry just glared.

 

Harry’s head was still swimming in anger at the idiotic nickname Louis had called him— _twice, now_ —and he must have missed when their names were called to pick up their drinks. He was pointing the direction to the restroom for another customer when he saw Louis and Liam sitting at a table in the lobby. Louis’ self-satisfied expression was gone (for once) and this time he was left scowling at Harry from his seat. Looking down at the counter to hide his prideful smirk, Harry turned away from Louis’ angry eyes. _Good_ , he thought, _I hope he burns his tongue._

 

*****

 

Harry thought he was going to pass out the fourth time Louis walked into his shop. How had he not gotten the message that Harry was _this close_ to jamming a straw into his neck?

 

That fourth time Louis looked quite different, however. His relatively casual look was traded up for an all-black three-piece suit, the collar of the jacket standing out in a bright white color. Harry was almost shocked to see actual dress shoes on the man’s feet instead of sneakers, and he was even more surprised to see Louis’ normally swoopy, messy hairy arranged up in a wave of a faux hawk. It was all very new. And Harry’d be lying if he said he didn’t almost drop the customer’s change when he first saw him.

 

Louis’ eyes had already found his, and he just offered a smug grin as Harry fumbled around behind the counter, trying not to blush, as he looked back his customer.

 

It took Harry a few seconds to notice the most shocking thing about Louis that day, though—he didn’t have his fucking phone glued to his ear. In fact, the phone was nowhere in sight.

 

Harry may or not have tried to rush through the customers in front of Louis, but he’d never admit to that. Louis just wouldn’t look away from him and Harry could feel himself starting to sweat under his apron.

 

“Hi,” Louis said, approaching the counter with his hands in his pants pockets. He looked just as pretentious as Harry remembered about all the other times he’d come in—not that he, you know, thought about him a lot or anything… he just… casually thought about him in passing. Late at night. Maybe.

 

“Good morning,” Harry replied, trying not to seem too taken aback by the sudden non-asshole behavior Louis was presenting.

 

“You ever not at work?” Louis asked, teasing. Harry let out a short laugh, still feeling very on-edge and unsure of whatever was happening in front of him.

 

“Nah, I might as well live here,” Harry retorted, drawing a small laugh from Louis. The sound was airier than Harry’s gravely chuckle, and it stuck itself somewhere deep in Harry’s mind to later be replayed over and over.

 

“So, what can I get for you?” Harry asked.

 

"Do you know how many times I've spelled my name out for you now?" Louis asked, sounding surprisingly amused, completely ignoring Harry's question.

 

Harry's throat went dry. He couldn't tell if Louis was upset with his misspellings or not, and he knew his eyes were widening to deer-in-the-headlights level.


	2. Louis' POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Louis. With an ‘o-u-i,’” Louis said. He was accustomed to spelling his name out for secretaries, press, and the like. People constantly wanted to misspell it into some mess, but Louis always made sure to correct them. He was Louis fucking Tomlinson, and he’d be damned if people didn’t know that.
> 
> Louis watched as the guy in front of him leaned his tall frame down a bit in on itself, writing some chicken scratch on the white cup. If he gripped the marker any tighter, he might have quite an ink stain to deal with.
> 
> The guy turned away from him, looking pleased with himself. "Wow, you can write on a cup, congrats," Louis thought.
> 
>  
> 
> Here's chapter two of Louis being a smug, sassy businessman who continuously pisses off the hot barista named Harry. Harry thinks he clever by purposefully misspelling Louis' name every time he comes in, and Louis is not okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright here's part 2 of 3; I hope you guys like it!
> 
> And yeah, Louis refers to Harry as a "boy" a few times, but he's like 22, only 4 years younger than Louis in this. Louis is just too full of himself to think of anyone being on his level.

It was purely by chance that Louis walked into Starbucks that first morning. His coffee pot at home had nearly exploded from overuse and the fact that sometimes Louis would forget to turn off the burner before heading into a long day at work.

 

That morning, Liam had called him, like he always fucking did when Louis wasn’t in the mood to talk, but at least it was just about work. Louis could deal with work.

 

Liam was talking about some deadline, Louis only half-listening, as he entered the front door of the Starbucks across the street from the building he worked in. He already felt uncomfortable in the chain coffee shop. He’d only been in there a couple of times when he was an intern years ago and made dreadful coffee runs at 6 in the morning.

 

Now, Louis had interns of his own. At only age 26, he was steadily climbing the ranks of his public relations company. He was witty, charming, and he knew how to make a great cover-up story. His grades in school were average, but it was the interviews he thrived in. Now he had clients that were given to him, and everyday he went into work he actually didn’t feel terrible about it.

 

“I think she’s trying to take care of it over dinner,” Liam said as Louis scanned the line in front of him.

 

“No, that needs to be done today,” he replied. There were three people in front of him at that point, and all of them seemed just as annoyed at the wait as he was. He eyed the two baristas running the registers. The taller one looked pretty sure of himself as he chatted with a customer, but the other one must have been new or something because his obvious panic was leaving a bad taste in Louis’ mouth. Who hires such unprofessional people? But then the shorter blonde one left his post in a hurry, dashing off to the back room.

 

That left just the tall, lanky one with a mess of curls flopping against his forehead. It would have been less endearing without his massive dimple that kept showing as he grinned at each new customer that approached his register.

 

“How the hell would I know?” Louis grumbled into his phone after Liam continued asking annoying questions. Liam was probably his favorite coworker, but the boy just did not know how to make decisions on his own.

 

An older gentleman in a shiny grey suit was asking too many questions at the counter, and the barista just indulged every one of them, smiling and nodding. It made Louis shake his head. The boy needed to grow a backbone.

 

Louis scanned the menu as Liam continued, and he wondered if he should get something stronger than coffee. It’d be a long day ahead of him, and he had hardly slept the night before. He settled on a macchiato, hoping it would wake up his eyes.

 

Liam started complaining about how their new intern wasn’t doing her job well enough, to which Louis simply replied, “Tell her to get her shit together, then, mate, not my problem.” The words didn’t bother him. He knew that not everyone was cut out to work in PR, and he wasn’t about to sugarcoat something to spare someone’s feelings. That’d be a waste of his and their time.

 

The music in the shop didn’t pair well with the low buzz of everyone around him. It was early in the morning and no one seemed particularly pleased to stand around, feeling useless outside of his or her over-crowded offices. Each second Liam spent trying to talk about his own work problems just made Louis want to tap his foot against the tile floor.

 

“Have you quite finished?” Louis finally asked, trying to keep his voice calm and opting instead to roll his eyes where Liam couldn’t see. He glanced down at his watch; he’d only been in line for a couple of minutes but it felt like a half hour.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Liam asked. Louis debated whether or not he should say, “you, right now, Li,” but he just sighed.

 

“I’m waiting in line at Starbucks, and I forgot how bloody annoying it was to wait so long for coffee,” Louis explained, watching as the line moved up.

 

“Mmm, coffee,” Liam hummed. Louis knew that was his not-very-subtle way of asking Louis to get him something, too, so he quickly changed the subject back to work. He didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

 

Louis tried to talk about their client coming in today, but he got a bit distracted by the barista at the counter running his hands through his hair to fix it between customers. He hadn’t noticed how longer his fingers were when he was back in line, but this close he realized just how well they fit the rest of his lengthy body.

 

The last customer in front of him was finishing up his order, and he was still trying to talk to Liam about what they needed to finish before lunch. He honestly didn’t care that it was his turn to order; the barista was at least 22 years old and working at Starbucks on a weekday morning. It wasn’t like he had anything more important to do.

 

The tall barista eventually looked his way, signaling it was his turn to come and order, and Louis went. He didn’t tell Liam to stop talking, though.

 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” the barista said. Louis could hear his disapproving tone, and it only made him want to leave him waiting longer.

 

“I understand that, Liam, but I don’t think you genuinely get the importance of this meeting,” Louis said into his phone. Liam just didn’t grasp how pivotal it was to make their client feel comfortable today. He was a high-profile actor that just decided to come out of the closet, and it was all in Louis and Liam’s hands to make it go smoothly.

 

He looked up to find Harry frowning at him. The boy looked like he was about to get impatient with Louis. What gave him the right to think his time was more valuable than Louis’? Louis had been waiting in line when he could have been working, and if Louis needed to multi-task in line, he fucking would.

 

“Right, right,” Louis responded to Liam, who was trying to explain his own ideas for the meeting.

 

“Sir.”

 

Louis’ eyes shot up at the deep, throaty voice above him. Why the fuck was this guy talking? Louis had only been standing there a few seconds, it wasn’t like the old guy earlier didn’t spend an eternity asking questions.

 

“I just need a venti caramel Macchiato, extra drizzle on top,” Louis said at last. He kept his eyes on Harry’s, making sure he knew that he was not about to apologize when he wasn’t even in the wrong.

 

The younger man in front of him looked like he was about to go into shock. His features looked so fragile as he stood still, not even moving to get a cup. Louis watched as his concerned manager loomed over his shoulder, mumbling something next to his ear. Liam was still busy talking off his own ear for him to give two shits about this barista’s civil code being broken.

 

He watched as the mop of curls moved slowly back and forth; he assumed that was intended for the manager, but Harry held Louis’ gaze. Louis was a bit impressed; most people were intimidated by his sharp eyes and takes-no-shit attitude, but he guessed this guy just hadn’t known him long enough to be worried for his own well-being.

 

“Name?” the barista said next. Louis could hear the anger in his voice, and he relished in, smiling up at him.

 

“Louis. With an ‘o-u-i,’” Louis said. He was accustomed to spelling his name out for secretaries, press, and the like. People constantly wanted to misspell it into some mess, but Louis always made sure to correct them. He was Louis fucking Tomlinson, and he’d be damned if people didn’t know that.

 

Louis watched as the guy in front of him leaned his tall frame down a bit in on itself, writing some chicken scratch on the white cup. If he gripped the marker any tighter, he might have quite an ink stain to deal with.

 

The guy turned away from him, looking pleased with himself. _Wow, you can write on a cup, congrats,_ Louis thought.

 

The bottom half of his body was suddenly visible when he turned to put the cup on the counter, and Louis instinctively dragged his eyes down the lean frame in front of him. His legs seemed longer than any he’d seen on a (relatively) grown man, and his ass looked pretty nice under the tight fabric of his pants. Louis was never one to be coy about his sexuality. He liked dick, and, in his experience, dick liked him.

 

The barista returned to tell him his total, not even asking if he wanted anything else, and Louis cocked his head to the side at that. The day had barely begun and this guy was already in a sour mood. What a prick. Sure, a hot prick, but still.

 

Digging through the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his wallet and his lighter just seemed to come with it. Louis was trying to make it till lunch before another cigarette, but this day was proving to be working against him already. Remembering Liam was still on the phone, he tuned in to hear him asking when Louis was going to come in.

 

“Yeah, I’m about to head that way.” Louis momentarily traced over the Spiderman cartoon on his lighter before putting it back into his pocket. He had a feeling he’d be seeing it sooner rather than later.

 

“That was the third time I asked you when you were coming back, Louis. Are you busy flirting with some poor soul?” Liam asked. He knew Louis could be quite a flirt.

 

“Of course,” Louis laughed loudly into his phone, continuing to not give a shit about how the hot barista was leaning with his arms crossed. The boy really needed to work on concealing his emotions if he wanted to go anywhere in life.

 

Louis teased him by taking an extraordinarily long time to go through his wallet; he didn’t really have much besides some credit cards, business cards, and a gym card, but the barista didn’t know that. He flipped the flaps around with his free hand, making a face like he was trying to pick the best option.

 

“Is he at least hot?” Liam questioned. Louis pulled out his AmEx at last, looking over the boy’s body as he took it from him.

 

“Yeah, he is,” Louis concluded. The guy may have kept his feelings too close to the surface, and he definitely wasn’t Louis normal type, but those curls, those green eyes, and those fucking _legs_ were something Louis wouldn’t mind messing around with.

 

The green eyes looking back at him looked anything but amused, and it only made Louis want to laugh. Such a prissy boy.

 

Those long fingers he’d taken note of earlier swiped Louis’ credit card at an alarming speed, obviously peeved, but Louis held his little staring contest with the barista. The boy visibly was not a fan of Louis’ actions, but Louis didn’t care. It was his time being wasted, too.

 

Not able to resist a little taunting, Louis peeked down to read the black nametag pinned to the front of the barista’s apron. “HARRY,” it read.

 

“Thanks, Harry.” Louis smirked at him, knowing that Harry would not be pleased that he knew his name now.

 

“Anytime,” Harry said before Louis walked off. He could sense the pure annoyance in the tone, and Louis was about to turn to say something else when Liam started talking again.

 

More and more time went by as Louis stood with the other group of people waiting on their drinks. One by one they would be called up, and Louis was starting to wonder if this day would ever pick up its pace.

 

“Lewis?” He heard a female barista call out. Louis was in the middle of explaining something to Liam when he heard it, and at first he thought it was for someone else.

 

“Caramel macchiato with extra drizzle for Lewis?” the barista said again.

 

“Great, another idiot who can’t pronounce a basic name,” Louis thought to himself. He almost mumbled it into his phone to Liam, but he bit his tongue. He was having to do that a lot lately.

 

Louis cricked his neck to hold his phone between his ear and shoulder as he maneuvered to get a cup sleeve, and when he got one out of the damned dispenser he pushed it open, lifting up his hot cup.

 

“Well, if we do that then lord knows how the bloody _Daily Mail_ would spin it. Li, we just—we… what the fuck,” Louis stopped talking, eyeing the writing on his cup now that he could read it clearer.

 

Turns out the barista hadn’t mispronounced the name, that Harry dipshit had _misspelled it._ Even after Louis had taken the time to tell him exactly how to spell it. He immediately turned to look at Harry at his register, and Harry was looking right back at him. He must have heard the name called.

 

The barista’s Adam’s apple bobbed briefly as he looked at Louis, and Louis could tell he was trying to look more confident and proud than he actually was. Louis’ piercing eyes were finally getting to him, perhaps.

 

Picking up the now-sleeved cup, Louis licked his lips while maintaining eye contact with Harry. It was half-sexual, half-anger, and he himself didn’t know which was more powerful at that moment. People hadn’t blatantly disrespected him in a few years--not to his face, at least. Harry was visibly smug yet unsure of the whole thing, and his stupid flushed skin was strangely charming to Louis.

 

Liam was back in ear asking what was wrong, and Harry had already looked away; so, Louis just gripped his hot drink and walked out. He told Liam he’d tell him later.

 

*****

 

The three days following that were filled with scheming and incredibly late nights at the office, and Louis hadn’t even had time to look online for a new coffee maker. Their new client was pushing to come out soon, soon, _soon,_ and Louis and Liam almost couldn’t keep up. It was their job to deal with impatient assholes, but the actor just didn’t seem to understand that they couldn’t offer guarantees.

 

Rubbing his eyes a bit too aggressively, Louis tried to wake himself up more in the back of his cab. He’d only gotten three hours of sleep that night (double what he’d gotten the past few), and the soft engine rumbling back and forth just made him want to curl up in the backseat. For once, he was the one to call Liam.

 

“Morning,” Liam grumbled. Clearly he was not pleased to awake, either.

 

“Morning. Did you—,“ Louis yawned, “—look over the possible schedules I emailed you?”

 

Louis pulled cash out of his wallet as the cab driver pulled over the curb. He really did not want to stand up again, but he said thanks to the driver as he forced his legs to work, climbing out onto the sidewalk.

 

“Yeah, I’m about to get some caffeine at Starbucks then I’ll come up,” Louis said, pushing open the door to the coffee shop.

 

“Are you just going there to be snippy with the hot barista?” Liam asked. They were spending too much time together. He knew him too well.

 

Harry was in fact there. Louis wasn’t exactly betting on him working that morning, but he knew it would be a nice perk. He hadn’t seen a genuinely hot guy in a few days. Liam didn’t count. Straight boys. Sigh.

 

Louis almost laughed when Harry immediately looked up at him. His face said it all—dread, annoyance, and a bit of sexual tension. Louis’ cup of tea.

 

“Maybe. He does have his panties in a twist,” Louis said to Liam, smirking at Harry, who looked on with his lips pressed tight.

 

Liam blathered on, talking about how Louis should just play nice because that’s what people responded to. Louis was going to correct him, tell him how, in his experience, girls and guys both liked a bit of an asshole personality, even if most of them wouldn’t admit it. He kept his mouth shut, though, his energy already at dangerously low levels, and he knew Liam would argue on no matter how tired he was.

 

Each time a customer would move up in line, Louis would find Harry glancing back at him. Louis never really took his eyes away because there wasn’t anything else pretty to look at, and because he didn’t care if Harry caught him watching him. Like he said, he wasn’t coy. He’d worked hard to become as confident as he was now, and sometimes he enjoyed how uncomfortable it made other people.

 

“How do you even know he’s into guys, Lou? Your gaydar was wrong about that guy in finance,” Liam said. Of course he’d bring up the _one_ time Louis had been wrong. Well, Louis actually thought he was just too closeted to admit to liking guys, but he wasn’t going to go over that with Liam again.

 

“Liam, are you even doing actual work at the office or are you just sitting there complaining about my choice in men?” Louis asked. He was next in line, and each second he spent waiting for caffeine was another second of his day wasted.

 

“I was waiting for you to get here. See if you had any ideas on how to get the interns to buckle down,” Liam said.

 

“Just tell them to do their jobs. No need to play nice. You remember when we were interns; everyone wasn’t exactly _nice_ ,” Louis replied. He bet that Liam and Harry would get along. Both of them used their emotions too much.

 

“Isn’t there some old saying about treating others how you want to be treated?” Liam was saying as the last customer in front of Louis _finally_ walked away.

 

“Why should that matter?” Louis asked. He took a few steps forward, and he and Harry were looking right at each other. His eyes looked even bigger up close.

 

“Hello,” Harry said. Louis picked up on the strained tone in his voice, and he was momentarily preoccupied with thinking about the ways in which his voice might sound in bed.

 

“Well, I guess I can try to get them all into the conference room sometime today. Might be kind of difficult considering they’re always running off in different directions,” Liam said.

 

“Can you have it done by noon?” Louis said. He practically felt the anger radiating from the taller boy across the counter, but it only made him want to spend longer annoying him—see how much he could handle before he snapped.

 

Louis dragged his free hand along the edge of the counter, thinking about what Harry’s moans would sound like.

 

He thought he might actually want to hear them one day, so he eventually spoke—while Liam was speaking, but whatever. “Venti caramel Macchiato with extra drizzle,” he said. It was pretty good last time, and he wasn’t about to survive on just coffee.

 

Harry’s whole body might as well have had a pole running down it by how still and stiff he was standing. He eventually reached for a cup and his Sharpie, never really looking Louis in the eye as he shuffled around. Louis wondered if he was going soft on him.

 

“Name?” Harry asked, his mouth pulled into such a fake smile Louis almost laughed. There’s Mr. Sassy, back again.

 

“Louis. With an ‘o-u-i,’” he said. Harry had to remember him, and maybe this time he’d pay attention to what Louis was saying.

 

Harry spun around to place it over on the counter, and Louis got another glimpse of his butt in his work pants. People had always told Louis he had a great ass, which was obviously true, but he liked to admire other’s as well.

 

“Well, how about we just have her come by at 11 and then we avoid all of that?” Louis was saying when Harry returned to his register.

 

Harry looked ready to strangle someone, and honestly Louis wouldn’t mind seeing his hands in action at that point.

 

“Okay, well she seemed quite alright with it when--,” Louis was abruptly cut off. Well, talked over. But not by Liam--by Harry the fucking barista.

 

Louis knew his face probably relayed how surprised he was by Harry’s sudden burst of angry confidence, but he was just not expecting that at _all_. Harry didn’t seem like the confrontational type; Louis pegged him more as the type of person to tweet indirects and tell everyone he was “fine” when he wasn’t. But here he was, talking over Louis to tell him his ticket total.

 

Looking down at the counter, Louis saw Harry’s large hands balled up in fists, resting on the flat surface but looking ready to punch Louis at a moment’s notice. Riled up and tense Harry was a Harry that Louis wanted to spend a little alone time with.

 

“Alright, calm down, Curly,” Louis told him. The kid was still wasting his time, but Louis didn’t mind much at that point. Harry didn’t need to know that, though.

 

“What did you just say?” Harry asked. Louis looked up to see Harry’s eyebrows pinched together and his mouth almost agape. He was _too_ easy to read. Louis pulled his credit card out, considering just owning up to the nickname he’d given him. Curly seemed far from pleased with it, though, so Louis decided against that.

 

“Nothing.” Louis found himself having to keep himself from laughing yet again. Something about Harry was both infuriating yet captivating. He and Liam would definitely get along.

 

The tall barista swiped his credit card with the same velocity as last time, and Liam must have heard what Louis had said because suddenly he was back in his ear yammering about Louis’ poor communication skills. Lies. Louis was very good at communicating; he just enjoyed sarcasm and flirting a bit too much for his own good.

 

“Thank you,” Louis said, sort of to Harry and sort of to Liam. He reopened his wallet to put his card back in.

 

“At this rate you might as well just call him ‘pet,’” Liam teased over the phone. Louis considered the idea, not really minding the possibility.

 

“No, he’d probably bust an artery at that,” Louis responded, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. Harry was still visibly fuming for some dumb reason, and Louis took a step away from the counter to see him in all his anger-filled glory. His curls looked cleaner today, like maybe he’d showered that morning, and the sleeves of his work shirt ended right in the middle of his bicep, giving Louis a nice view that indicated he at least lifted weights occasionally.

 

When his eyes met back with Harry’s, it was obvious he was confused about Louis’ glances, and honestly he looked just as enraged as ever. Louis was hoping he might have shown a bit of reciprocated interest, but, alas, he’d have to try again some other day.

 

He and Liam continued to discuss the plan for the day, and at long last his drink was ready. This time the barista just called out the order and looked a bit confused at the name, but Louis was already standing there to claim it before she could try to butcher it.

 

“What. The. Fuck,” Louis said into his phone, probably a bit too loudly, but no one seemed to care as he turned the cup in his hands.

 

“What?” Liam questioned, only sounding half-interested.

 

“The fucking barista spelled my name wrong. Again—and clearly on purpose. Wanker,” Louis was saying as he looked over at Harry, who, unsurprisingly, was staring right back at him. He knew what he’d done, and he was just exuding smugness right back at Louis. _Wanker_.

 

Louis didn’t even know what his body was doing as he instinctively headed in the direction of Harry. The boy was still tensed and watching Louis out of the corner of his eye, but Louis forced himself to stop before he caused a scene. He faked like he needed a stirrer, and he grabbed one when he was seconds away from just throwing it Harry’s stupid curly head.

 

“What’d he write?” Liam asked as Louis started walking towards the door.

 

“L-u-w-i-s-s. Like, what bullshit is that? No one has ever even spelled their name like that,” Louis said, walking out of the building in a huff and sipping on his drink to where he almost burned his tongue.

 

*****

 

Liam just didn’t seem to believe Louis when he told him how much of a smug prick the hot barista at Starbucks was, so Louis thought he might as well just take him to see for himself. They needed extra energy for the big day ahead of them anyway, and so what if he had looked through the windows beforehand just to make sure Harry was working that morning.

 

Their client had called Louis a few minutes into their cab ride, and he couldn’t _not_ take it; so, he was in the middle of trying to explain the big event tomorrow when they walked into the front door of Starbucks. Harry looked just as annoyed as he always did when he saw Louis, but Louis took that as a plus that the boy clearly remembered him every time he saw him.

 

The client was asking nervous question after nervous question, and Louis was so close to just asking him to take some deep breaths and shut up for a bit. But he bit his tongue; the guy had a right to be nervous about announcing his sexuality the very next day, and Louis tried to keep that in mind.

 

“Is the red carpet at 11 or 12 tomorrow?” Louis pulled the phone away from his head and turned to Liam. Their client kept saying timeframes that didn’t match what Louis remembered.

 

“I think 11...Want me to call Jay?” Liam asked, taunting Louis with his wiggling eyebrows. Jay was one of their interns, with a very obvious crush on Louis. Like, embarrassingly obvious. Louis couldn’t blame her, though; he had quite a natural sex appeal.

 

“Tell her you’ve got some _burning_ questions,” Liam continued, and Louis couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of what Jay’s face would look like at Louis even using the word “burning.”

 

“I could call back that client from last month and tell him you’ve changed your mind,” Louis teased right back. Their client last month had been so into Liam he couldn’t even pick up on the hints that Liam was far from interested. Louis may or may not have encouraged the flirting, much to Liam’s dismay.

 

Moving his hand to Liam’s buff arm, hidden under his suit jacket, he gave the muscle a little squeeze, laughing along with Liam. Apparently getting more than 4 hours of sleep made them both a little extra friendly.

 

The line moved on as he and Liam exchanged looks while Louis tried to offer advice to their client. When they finally reached the register, the client had put Louis on hold so he could call his mother. Louis almost wanted to call his mother, too--ask her why she raised her son to be such a blabbermouth.

 

“Morning,” Liam said to Harry as they stood in front of him. Harry’s face indicated he was a bit confused about the two of them being their together, and Louis liked to believe there was a hint of jealousy hidden in there, too.

 

“Hi, what can I get for you two?” Harry asked. Louis almost pouted; he never sounded that genuine when he’d talked to Louis.

 

“Well, he’ll have a grande black tea lemonade,” Louis said. He placed his hand on Liam’s arm again, and he saw Harry watching his every move. He smiled to himself; Harry certainly seemed to be the jealous type. Louis had gotten in trouble in past relationships for being a bit too much of a flirt, but in all honesty more relationships had ended because Louis was just very protective. Some called it jealousy, but whatever.

 

“What’s the name?” Harry asked as he positioned the Sharpie over Liam’s cup.

 

“Liam,” he said. Harry nodded and mumbled something as he wrote it down.

 

“And I,” Louis paused briefly to make sure Harry would look at him, “will have a tall caramel Frappuccino.

 

“Name?” Harry asked. His voice was still not exactly friendly, but he seemed less sour than usual.

 

“Louis. L-o-u-i-s.” Louis caught a bit of a smirk fly over Harry’s features as he pulled the cap off of his marker again. For a few moments the Sharpie simply hovered over the cup, like he’d been frozen or something.

 

“You alright, Curly?” Louis asked. Maybe Louis’ good looks had finally broken the boy.

 

That same look of anger rushed back to Harry’s face as he glared up at Louis. Louis’ body twitched a bit at the sight; he’d never realized how pink Harry’s lips were until that moment.

 

Harry moved to put the cups on the other counter, and Liam turned to raise an eyebrow at Louis. Louis just shrugged in response, pulling out his wallet. He handed Harry his card, and he didn’t even tell him the total as he practically ripped it out of Louis’ hand.

 

Harry stared down at his register, his lips pushed together so tightly Louis thought he might hurt himself. He hurriedly swiped the credit card, his wrist snapping angrily at the motion. Louis shook his head at Liam, letting out a short chuckle. Harry got worked up _so easily_. Louis loved it.

 

“Have a great day,” Liam said, trying to make the situation a bit less awkward for him as Louis pocketed his wallet. Harry’s eyes were trained on Louis’, but Louis was smirking while Harry’s nostrils were flaring. Louis licked his lips and took a few steps backwards, giving Harry the best cold-but-sexy face he could.

 

“Jesus, you guys might need a first aid kit if you ever spend any time alone together. He might rip your throat out if you call him ‘curly’ again,” Liam commented once they were out of earshot.

 

“Mmm,” Louis hummed, looking back over at Harry, who was still angry but trying to fake a smile for the next customer. “He might not mind it if I moaned it.”

 

“Fuckin’—Lou, I don’t need to hear that,” Liam grimaced a bit. Louis hadn’t even realized he’s said that last bit out loud.

 

“Oh, please. He may have been angry, but that emotion transitions shockingly fast to horny, let me tell you,” Louis said. Liam just shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as they continued to wait.

 

The client jumped back onto the line, and Louis was startled for a few seconds; he’d forgotten the phone was even pressed to his ear. It was all second nature at this point.

 

Liam motioned for him to go sit a table so he could wait for the drinks and Louis could talk in a quieter place. Louis nodded to no one in particular, maneuvering through the small group waiting for their drinks and found a two-seater table with a prime view of the wound-up, curly barista.

 

A few moments later Liam was sliding into the seat across from him, two drinks in his hands, and he looked like he was seconds away from laughing. Louis pinched his eyebrows together, talking about press with their client as he grabbed his cup from Liam’s hand. He almost dropped his phone on the table when he read what Harry had written.

 

He swiftly moved the phone away from his ear, stumbling to find the mute button so the client couldn’t hear what he was about to say.

 

“Who the _fuck_ does he think he is?” Louis hissed. Liam knew he meant Harry, and he finally let out his laugh.

 

“I’m impressed he’s thought of so many ways to misspell your name,” Liam chuckled. Louis gripped his phone tightly in his hand, gritting his teeth together. He traced his thumb over the letters, “L-o-o-u-e-s-s,” seconds away from puncturing the cup with his nail and making Harry clean up the mess.

 

“It’s not funny, Liam,” Louis spat. “He’s a bloody Starbucks barista and he thinks he’s clever.”

 

“Maybe that’s his way of flirting,” Liam said, his face the opposite of serious.

 

Louis grumbled to himself, picking the phone back up and glowering over at the barista who refused to look back at him. Louis thought it was intentional, but when Harry was pointing directions to someone he caught Louis’ gaze and nearly choked on air at the daggers Louis was eyeing him with.

 

“Good,”Louis thought, “I hope he trips over his giant feet. Wanker.”

 

*****

 

The very next day Louis was toying with the idea of going back to Starbucks. He wanted to show Harry that he was not okay with the bullshit attitude and disrespect he was showing Louis, and he decided he would go back in. Just to see him sweat.

 

Louis was looking fan-fucking-tastic that day, too, and he didn’t want to waste it. He was joining Liam and their client at a red carpet event later in the day, where the client was going to make the big announcement, and Louis knew he’d been standing in view of the cameras behind him. So, he put on one of his best suits—all black with a white collar—and he put his hair products to good use. His fringe was swept up into a perfectly shaped wave on top of his head. He’d only been out of his cab for a few minutes, and he’d already caught two people giving him a once-over.

 

First thing he did when he walked into Starbucks was find Harry. He was standing at his normal post behind the register, and, since it was a weekend, there wasn’t much of a line. Harry was in the middle of giving a customer their change back when his eyes met Louis; they were softer than Louis had ever seen, and for a second Louis almost thought Harry was blushing.

 

Louis took his place behind the couple of people in line, and he stuck his hands in his pants pockets. Of course he was still mad at Harry’s blatant disregard of how he spelled his name, but something about Harry’s dimple and fluffy curls was making his frustration dissipate—at least a little.

  
“Hi,” Louis decided to say first, walking up to Harry’s register when it was his turn. Louis could see Harry do a quick double-take over his outfit, taking it all in, and Louis’ smirk was back on his face before he knew it. He really hoped Harry wouldn’t be a dick today.

 

“Good morning,” Harry said at last. He was tentative about the whole situation, possibly even nervous.

 

“You ever not at work?” Louis asked, taking advantage of the fact that Harry hadn’t asked him what he wanted yet. Harry let out a short laugh, one that sounded at least half real.

 

“Nah, I might as well live here,” he replied. Louis gave a genuine laugh at that, hoping it would make Harry relax a little. He saw a real smile pulling at Harry’s lips, so he thought he might have gotten to him.

 

“So, what can I get for you?” Harry asked, filling the silence.

 

Louis thought about it for a second. He was surprisingly not very tired, likely due to the adrenaline of what the rest of the day would hold. Also maybe a bit from Harry’s eyes locked on his.

 

“Do you know how many times I’ve spelled my name out for you now?” Louis decided to prod a little. He wasn’t about to forgive Harry until he explained himself. Besides, there wasn’t anyone waiting in line behind him; he might as well.

 

Harry’s eyes grew even larger (which Louis didn’t think was possible), and Louis had the overwhelming desire to run his hands through Harry’s curls. Maybe Harry could read his mind or maybe it was a nervous habit, but Harry lifted one of his hands to push his hair back, swallowing. Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, and Louis bit his lip and raised his brows to Harry, wondering if he broke the boy.

 

“I…I’m just a bad speller,” Harry said. Louis should have been able to guess that he’d be a horrendous actor based on how bad he was at hiding his emotions.

 

“Sure about that?” Louis smiled, tilting his head to the side. “I thought you were trying to be clever. Doing it on purpose.”

 

The blush on Harry’s cheeks swiftly spread down his neck, and he looked away from Louis, which gave him his answer.

 

“I guess—I—um, ‘m sorry if I pissed you off or something. You just got to me when I was in a bad mood,” Harry said. Louis could tell that was only half-true, but he didn’t want to pry.

 

“Well, it didn’t exactly make me happy,” Louis said, and Harry looked away, uncomfortable. “But if you give me your number I might forgive you.”

 

Louis was grinning when Harry glanced up at him; it was a rather forward statement, but Harry seemed more shocked than perturbed by it. Louis was starting to feel unsure of the whole thing when Harry didn’t respond.

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Louis’ grin faltered a bit. Maybe his gaydar _was_ off.

 

“No, no, I was just…not expecting that. Didn’t think you liked me much after…,” Harry trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“So, is that a no?” Louis shifted from foot to foot. He’d been rejected a couple of times, sure, but it’d been a while. Normally his confidence was enough to make even the most stubborn at least toss the idea around.

 

Harry didn’t reply, instead grabbing a large cup from behind the counter; Louis watched him, puzzled, and soon Harry was uncapping his marker and writing something across the top of the cup.

 

“Caramel macchiato extra drizzle, yeah?” Harry looked up through his eyelashes, marker moving to the small boxes printed on the cup.

 

“Y-yeah,” Louis nodded, unsure what exactly was happening. He didn’t need a venti with that much caffeine, but he wasn’t going to stop Harry.

 

“It’s on the house,” Harry said, regaining a bit of the natural confidence Louis had seen before. He turned around, setting the cup down; Louis hadn’t realized his heart was beating quicker than normal, and it made more nervous than he liked.

 

“Thanks,” Louis said, clearing his throat. Harry just smiled back at him.

 

“Not a problem,” Harry replied. Louis realized he was waiting around for nothing since he apparently wasn’t expected to pay, so he nodded a bit too enthusiastically, walking away as Harry welcomed the next customer.

 

Louis watched him work as he waited on his drink, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Harry’s fingers. They moved so smoothly from cup to marker to register, his rings shining. Louis wondered how he dressed out of his work uniform, and how he looked without anything at all—then someone was saying his name.

 

“Louis?” the barista said, turning the cup before setting it on the pickup counter.

 

He made his way over to the cup, and he first saw that his name was actually spelt correctly. The group of numbers staring back at him—a _phone number_ \--quickly overshadowed that fact. Louis held in a gasp as he looked over at Harry, who was smirking back at him.

 

Louis grabbed a coffee sleeve and raised his cup at Harry as a way of thanks. The tall barista nodded at him, watching as he left the shop. The moment Louis was in his building he pulled out his phone, typing the numbers into his contacts and double-checking to make sure he hadn’t messed up the sequence. He stood in the elevator with his thumb hovering over the message icon, debating about when and what he should send as his first message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think? 
> 
> Sassy/smart-ass Louis and Harry are my favorite.
> 
> For chapter 3 do you guys have a preference to whose POV it is? I know some people prefer a certain narrative. I will tell you now it's gonna be top!Louis with a smidgen of power-bottom!Harry. I think.
> 
> Chapter 3 also might take a bit longer since I'm about to be traveling for a bit and my birthday is on Sunday. Buuuut smut is always interesting to write so we'll see where that goes.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at ho-for-lou.tumblr.com so feel free to come say hi and send me prompts. I'm gonna make a rebloggable link to this story with a few pictures when I upload chapter 3, so if you happen to follow me on there you'll know right when I put up the next part.
> 
> Thanks a ton for reading!! xxx Lacey


	3. chapter 3: harry and louis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is smitten, Harry is smitten. They're both horny and young and who doesn't love tension??  
> There's some intoxicated Harry, some more businessman-Louis, phone sex, some sex-sex, and just the right amount of dumb jokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow wow wow. over 2 years. I, for one, am sorry. so many things have changed over these past two years, huh? I've been super stressed with college and then today, like many days, I listened to 1D and cried at any slow song bc I'm a sap.  
> I'm almost ashamed to say that I had 3/4 of this chapter written two years ago, but I just never got around to completing it until today.  
> hopefully this is what you guys wanted, and I really appreciate the lovely comments.  
> there are two different smut scenes in this so maybe we can call it even?  
> xxx

“You look pleased,” Liam said as Louis walked into their shared office. Sucking in his cheeks a bit to make his smile less obvious, Louis plopped into his chair across from Liam.

 

“Curly gave me his number,” Louis replied, trying to sound nonchalant, like it happened every day.

 

“Mmm? Even after you said he was, oh how did you word it…’too much of a prick to suck a dick?’” Liam asked, taunting clear in his tone.

 

Louis laughed a bit at his own joke; sometimes he was just so clever. People truly didn’t appreciate it enough.

 

“I guess he just couldn’t resist my radiating charm,” Louis wagged his head a bit, chin high, as he turned on his laptop.

 

“Sure, Tommo,” Liam replied, adjusting his tie. Even under the fluorescent lighting Louis had to admit Liam looked exceptionally good that day. They both did, and he didn’t try to fight the giddiness he felt about what all the day would hold.

 

In less than two hours the two of them, their two interns, and their client would be headed to a red carpet for an awards show at which the client was presenting. He would drop clues everywhere, some less subtle than others, and by the time he walked on stage to present, most of the work would already be done. A few comments about it on stage, all scripted and rehearsed, and there’d be no turning back. Then Louis and Liam would be dealing with the aftermath, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

“When do you think I should send the first text?” Louis asked as he browsed the online news. All the headlines blurred by as he scrolled, not really stopping to read them.

 

“Isn’t there some old rule about two days?” Liam replied, not looking up from his own computer.

 

“This isn’t 2001, Lee-yum. Ever since sexting became a thing, all phone rules essentially went out the window,” Louis said.

 

“Sexting? So, what, you’re asking me when you should send him a picture of your dick?” Liam scrunched up his face.

 

“Christ’s sake, Li, keep up. Sexting is not something to open a conversation with; that’s built up over winky faces and texts that can be easily misconstrued,” Louis said.

 

“I thought you said there were no rules?” Liam glanced up but kept his head down, his hand resting on the track pad.

 

“Guidelines are different. Anyway, you’re not helping at all.” Louis pulled out his phone again, fingers moving quickly to create a new message.

 

“Why don’t you ask him out then?” Liam brought his eyebrows together. Such an innocent lad, that one. He still didn’t understand flirting to the point of using it to his advantage.

 

“Because that’s like sexting. It has to be built up to.” Louis typed in “C-u” before his phone recommended the contact “Curly and Surly Barista.” He smirked down at it before tapping it and moving to the body of the message.

 

Liam made a disapproving grumble across from him, but Louis paid no attention to it as he speedily typed out a message he hoped Curly would reply to.

 

“well , looks like you can spell Louis after all,” he typed, adding the side-eye smirking emoji for good measure.

 

“thanks for the free coffee too,” he sent in a second message. He read and reread what he’d said before locking his screen and setting his phone on his desk.

 

Barely three minutes later and he was already getting impatient. He wasn’t exactly the best person to wait around with nothing to do. That normally ended with him throwing paper clips at Liam’s head and causing more trouble than good.

 

*****

 

Harry knew his phone vibrated in his back pocket, but the line was starting to build as the morning drew on. He guessed it was just his roommate reminding him to pick up milk on his way home, so he tried to ignore it until he could sneak away to the restroom to check it.

 

More than a half hour passed before the line dwindled again and another barista agreed to watch his post so he could slip away to the back. He pushed open the bathroom door and pulled out his phone while his other hand worked the button on his jeans.

 

The number on the screen wasn’t one he recognized, so when he read the two messages waiting for him, his hand froze in place over his zipper.

 

Louis had sent him not one, but _two_ , texts. The first one, poking fun at Harry, sounded like the smirking, sultry man Harry had gotten to know a bit over his past few Starbucks trips, and the second was thanking him for the free drink.

 

Harry forgot about peeing and swallowed dryly, tongue running over the roof of his mouth as he tried to think of a clever response. Louis had sent those messages a while ago, but he knew Harry was at work, yeah?

 

“My pleasure. Starbucks welcomes all snobby businessmen and women. Especially those with hard to spell names.” Harry read over his message and added a few winking emojis to make sure Louis knew he wasn’t trying to sound rude. He just wasn’t the best texter.

 

Slipping his phone into his pocket and returning to his original task of using the loo, he tried to not think about what he should have said instead of that and what Louis would look like when he read the message. The way his eyebrows would move or his lips purse or his shoulders straighten. He tried to push it all out of his mind, but, by the time he went to flush, his phone was vibrating again.

 

He went to grab it so quickly it almost fell into the urinal, but at the last second he regained a tiny bit of his composure.

 

“well they clearly enjoy hiring curly baristas with sass mouths too,” his phone screen read. Louis meant that in a playful way, right? He knew Harry was just joking bout the snobby thing, yeah?

 

Before he could think about it too much, his phone was lighting up again with another message from Louis. He unlocked it to find a picture of the guy Louis had brought in with him a couple of days ago, dressed in a suit and tie and sitting at a desk Harry assumed was his own. Louis had captioned it with, “even liam thinks you’re too sassy for your own good.” A few emojis followed, but Harry skimmed over them as he smiled to himself and typed out his response.

 

“You’re one to talk, Loouess.” He bit the inside of his lip and chuckled a bit to himself. Next thing he knew, his phone was going off again.

 

“Not my name, Curly,” Louis had sent. Debating whether or not he should send Louis a selfie of him flicking the camera off, Harry was interrupted by a customer entering the restroom. His fingers moved quickly as he walked to wash his hands, and he sent Louis a screenshot of his contact name “Luwiss,” with the caption “Oh, you’re right. My apologizes.”

 

*****

 

“If he wasn’t so hot I swear I’d be walking over there and stabbing him with his damn Sharpie right now,” Louis complained as he showed Liam his newest text from Harry.

 

“I think he’s funny,” Liam offered with a shrug.

 

“Of _course_ you do. You’re both bloody pre-teens at this rate,” Louis grumbled and pulled his phone away from Liam.

 

Fingers stilled over the keys, Louis tried to think of a clever response. His mind was running blank, though. Curly seemed to be doing that to him a lot.

 

“Just because you’re taller than me doesn’t mean I’m scared to fight you Curly,” he sent.

 

“and I work in pr so I could just ruin your reputation from the shadows,” he added. His job was mainly saving people’s reputations, but he’s sure he could figure out how to do the opposite—if it was ever called for.

 

“So that’s why you’re always in business casual? Working from the ‘shadows’?” Harry texted back. Louis took note that he essentially ignored his threat besides using it to poke fun back at him, and was Harry really about to bring up Louis’ outfit choices when he was the one wearing a uniform and green apron every day?

 

“I hope that’s your way of complimenting my outfits because yes they are lovely aren’t they,” Louis texted.

 

“Always. xx” is all Louis got as a response. Sure it was a great, flirtatious response, but Louis had no idea how to continue the conversation without sounding desperate. He may be a bit desperate, but Curly didn’t need to know that.

 

*****

 

It was almost 4pm when Harry was finally off work. His muscles had that dull ache he got from long days of standing behind the register, but his nerves were still buzzing a bit from his interaction with Louis that had ended hours ago. Neither of them had replied after Harry’s “Always. xx,” and Harry didn’t want to seem needy, so he left it as the last message—for the time being.

 

He was climbing the steps to his flat when his ringtone went off, and he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t stop briefly because he thought it might be Louis. He was juggling the milk he’d bought in one hand and his keys in the other, so his quick movements to tear his phone out of his back pocket left him dropping his keys to slide down a few steps. His disappointed frown was immediate when he saw that it was, in fact, not Louis but his best mate. He loved Niall, but… well, Harry was already a bit too sexually frustrated to be so on-edge about a hot guy possibly calling him.

 

“Hey,” Harry tried to not sound annoyed as he retraced his steps to pick up his keys.

 

“Well, hello, grumpy. Who pissed in your cereal?” Niall asked, sounding like he might have just woken up—from a nap or for the first time that day Harry was unsure.

 

“No one, I just... it’s a long story, Ni,” Harry replied as he reached his flat at last and opened the door with his phone held between his shoulder and ear.

 

“Well, that settles it. I’m coming over tonight and you’re gonna to help me finish this bottle of vodka my dad left here last time he was in town. You can tell me all about the Adventures of a Barista,” Niall said, none of it sounding like a question and all of it sounding like he wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway.

 

Harry pondered the idea as he put the milk in the fridge. He hadn’t gotten properly drunk in at least a month, and if Niall was providing free alcohol…

 

“Okay, be here around 8, yeah?” Harry asked, walking to his room to try and catch a few hours of sleep before Niall came over.

*****

 

“NIALL! Hellllpppp meeeeee!” Harry yelled from the bathroom.

 

“Are you too drunk to remember how to pee?” Niall laughed as he stumbled to the doorway of the bathroom.

 

The two of them had spent the past two hours downing over half a bottle of vodka, and Harry had probably spent a good hour going on and on about how much of a prick Louis was but also how pretty his eyelashes were.

 

“Oh, sod off. Look at this,” Harry grumbled as he essentially shoved his phone into Niall’s face. Niall had found Louis’ Instagram about twenty minutes into Harry’s explanation of Louis’ bone structure and why blue was “his color.” Niall hadn’t really been listening much at that point, but he had been stalking Facebook for a “Louis, London, PR” matching Harry’s description. It didn’t take long for Niall to find his page, but he was disappointed to find it mostly private. Now knowing his last name, though, he searched Instagram to find a surprisingly not private account belonging to the one and only Louis Tomlinson.

 

Harry had been talking about how maybe he should text Louis a drunk selfie when Niall had stopped him to show him the account he’d found. Harry spent a good ten minutes studying the pictures (there were thankfully only about 30, Niall didn’t have all night), and Harry all but moaned at the picture of Louis topless, tanned, and in baby blue swim trunks.

 

Now, however, Harry had been distracted from peeing because Louis had posted a new picture. It was of him, dressed impeccably, laughing on what looked like a red carpet with a footballer Niall recognized from all the matches he watched.

 

“Look at his smile, Ni! Unfair! Simply… unfair,” Harry slurred, almost petting the screen as Niall handed him his phone back.

 

“Christ, Harry, you need to get laid. You’ve barely interacted with this guy and you’re already smitten,” Niall replied, leaning his head against the doorframe.

 

“I want _him_ to lay me, Ni,” Harry mumbled, pouting.

 

“I’m all for it, mate,” Niall laughed.

 

“Well, he’s probably going to some posh after-party to kiss some other guy anyway,” Harry said as he heaved himself upright to finally pee.

 

“I’ve never seen you so flustered over some guy, honestly. You’re normally the one causing the flustering, from what I remember,” Niall replied.

 

Harry hummed in response, his eyelids growing heavy. Niall’s words processed slowly in his foggy mind.

 

“You’re right, Niall! So right.” Harry’s eyes shone with drunkenness—but there was some mischievousness now, too. He zipped up his trousers and pulled Niall, who was mumbling some nonsense about always being right, back to the kitchen.

 

“I’m confident, I’m cool, I’m— _hic_ —the one who _does_ the flustering.” Harry smirked down at his phone as his fingers tapped over the screen. His inebriation was causing quite a few spelling errors, and he gave his silent thanks to autocorrect.

 

“Please don’t send a dick pic in front of me, Harry,” Niall said as he poured himself another shot. “I don’t think I’m quite drunk enough for that image to be successfully blacked out.”

 

“Of course not, Nialler. The art of seduction is much more complex than that,” Harry said as he finished typing his message. Probably a bit too satisfied with himself, he hit send and grabbed the shot from Niall, downing it before he could protest.

 

*****

 

Louis and Liam were in a cab back to their office. Their red carpet event had come to a close, and now the two of them were headed back to their team to deal with the aftermath of their client coming out.

 

Liam was in the middle of recapping a “riveting” story about how Adele had made eye contact with him when Louis felt his phone vibrate. He and his assistant had been keeping in contact about how their plans for the next few days were playing out, so he was more than surprised to see “Curly and Surly Barista” lit up on his screen. Smiling a bit to himself, he opened the message and his breath _might_ have hitched in his chest.

 

“so, tell me, lou… does that mouth of yours do anything else besides berate people on the phone and flirt with baristas? just wondering xx” is what Louis read over a good five times before he attempted to regain his composure. He immediately interrupted whatever Liam was saying to show him the message.

 

“Well, you know how to pick ‘em,” Liam chuckled next to him.

 

“Liam! This is major. He skipped right over the ‘easily misconstrued’ messages to the ‘tell me about your body parts’ messages. I—I… how do I even respond to something that bold?” Louis cradled his phone in front of him.

 

“You? Stumped by something ‘bold’? Maybe you’ve met your match, Tommo. Someone who can stump you is someone I’d like to buy a drink.” Liam smiled over at him.

 

“Oh, shut it.” Louis playfully shoved Liam in in the shoulder, taking a calming breath himself. He bit his lower lip and bounced his knee up and down as he pondered what to reply.

 

Smirking a bit, he typed out: “well I’ve been told it’s quite good at a lot of things. speeches, biting, talking, moaning, etc…”

 

“those fingers of yours good at anything besides writing out names on cups? Incorrectly, at that,” Louis sent in a follow-up message. Only seconds passed before his phone went off again.

 

“mmmm wouldn’t you love to know,” is what Louis gets as a reply. Liam had given up on trying to get back to his Adele story at this point, opting to watch the city pass by through the cab window instead.

 

“getting shy, curly?” Louis teased back.

 

A few moments passed of Louis’ skin feeling increasingly tingly. His heartbeat was already beginning to speed, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves when he finally got the reply, “well, I would say that they could make you do all those things your mouth is apparently good at… except the speeches would be more like silent screams and the talking would be more like begging… but that seems a bit forward, no?”

 

Louis swallowed, his throat drier than he remembered it, and his knee stilled to just being tense like the rest of his body. He struggled to remember why he wasn’t on his way to wherever Harry was at that moment, when the cab pulled over at their office building. Liam slid out of the seat while Louis almost tripped over air, Liam looking more than pleased next to him. Louis paid the driver, willing his hand to not shake, and the two of them walked towards the lift. Louis pulled on the hem of his jacket while Liam pretended to ignore Louis’ slightly blushed cheeks and the way he jumped a bit when the lift dinged. They rode up to their floor in silence, Louis staring at his blurred reflection in the doors as Liam scrolled through his phone. Louis’ phone buzzed again as they approached their floor, and he tried to act nonchalant as he pulled it from his pocket.

 

An image stared back at him. It was slightly blurry and the lighting wasn’t that great, but Louis could make out what he knows is Harry’s left hand—rings and long fingers unmistakable. The picture was just a close-up of his fingers by his mouth. His stupidly pink, pouty mouth. The fingers weren’t in his mouth, they were just right under it, the weight of them pulling his bottom lip down a bit. He could see some of his teeth peeking out, his tongue barely visible yet again the center of attention. And Louis knows that’s a half-formed smirk. He also knows he’s fucked. This night might be the longest of his life.

 

“Lou? You coming?” Louis’ head snapped up to find Liam staring at him from outside the lift.

 

“Y-yeah. Right behind you.” Louis faked a confident smile and clapped Liam on the shoulder as he exited the lift. Liam shook his head and looked to be biting back a laugh as he led the way to their office. Louis stared at the picture a bit longer before he went back to the message thread to see that Harry had captioned the image with “is this too forward, too? oops. xxx”

 

***

 

Louis’ phone was burning a hole in his pocket. Its weight against his thigh was a constant reminder of the curly-haired, slightly obscene, yet nonetheless gorgeous boy waiting on the other end for his response.

 

After the _lips teeth fingers smirk_ picture, Louis hadn’t had the chance to even think of a clever reply, much less send one. His team was already working full-speed by the time he and Liam arrived, sending quotes to some tabloids and denying rumors to others. They had a long few days ahead of them, and while Louis knew his full attention needed to be on his client, his mind kept making _everything_ about Harry. His assistant’s lipstick looked eerily similar to Harry’s coral lips. The news anchor on the telly they had on mute was named Harold. One of the interns was sipping on a drink from Starbucks, which, well…

 

Louis tried his best to shake himself of those thoughts as he settled back into a chair. He looked up to find Liam talking enthusiastically about how well things were going. Liam looked surprisingly awake considering he’d probably gotten as little sleep as Louis had, and Louis leaned back in his chair with a small smile. He was fortunate to have Liam by his side. Even if he could be a pain in the ass he had Louis’ back and he knew how to handle situations if Louis was a bit… distracted.

 

“Amanda’s going to go pick up some takeout for everyone, and you all have your individual tasks for the time being. Thank you guys, again. We’re makin’ history here!” Liam concluded with his signature flashy grin. Their team let out small woops of excitement and got busy, pulling out tablets and dialing numbers. For the first time in a long time, Louis had almost no worries. His team’s got this. _He’s_ got this.

 

*****

 

“Niall, it’s been almost thirty minutes. That might as well be a lifetime,” Harry whined into Niall’s shoulder as they sat on the couch watching Gordon Ramsay yell at someone on the telly.

 

“Maybe you flustered him so bad…he—he dropped his phone in the loo or summat,” Niall replied, half-heartedly petting drunken-Harry’s curls.

 

“Orrr….” Harry sat up abruptly, his head spinning a bit more than he’d anticipated. “Or he _did_ think I was too forward and never wants to see or talk to me again.”

 

“Well then that’d just make him a proper idiot and you shouldn’t want to see him anyway.” Niall tore open a bag of crisps, jostling Harry next to him.

 

“But I _dooo_ Ni,” Harry grabbed his beer off the side table. “I wanna see _all_ of him. I wanna see his eyes go dark and his teeth bite his lip. And his bum, Niall, _christ_ … his bum.”

 

Harry sounded almost pained, so Niall probably shouldn’t have started laughing, but he did. Harry was seconds away from spilling some of his beer on Niall on purpose when his phone chimed on the armrest next to him. Louis’ contact name lit up the screen, but Harry stayed still on the couch till long after the screen had gone black again. He almost worried that if he moved too quickly the message would disappear.

 

“Well, if you’re not gonna do it,” Niall said, crawling over Harry and spilling some crisps on both of them in the process.

 

“Careful!” was Harry’s sad, last-second response as Niall unlocked his phone.

 

Harry studied Niall’s face as best as he could, trying to tell if Louis’ response was going to be good or bad. Niall mouthed the words to himself, then gave a small nod, his lips pressed together.

 

“What…,” Harry demanded, his grip on his beer tightening. Niall flashed him a grin before handing Harry’s phone back. Harry felt like a preteen with his heart rate speeding.

 

“I’m in a room full of colleagues, trying to get work done, but all I can think about are those sinful lips of yours. How they feel, how they taste, how they’d look bitten raw…too forward, love?” Louis’ message read. Harry was blushing a bit before he even finished the first line. Louis was _distracted_ by Harry. Louis was sitting in an office, probably in that same suit, thinking about Harry. About his _lips_.

 

“Don’t pass out on me, H,” Niall said, facing the telly but eyeing Harry from the corner of his eye after Harry had been motionless.

 

“I—I’m fine, really.” Harry nodded to reassure himself. He leaned back against the couch, but his muscles weren’t relaxed so he just looked more awkward. He brought his hand up to his mouth absentmindedly, pulling at his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger. He’d always admired his lips, knew they were a powerful asset, and past lovers had had their own compliments about his lips and their “abilities,” but something about Louis’ words had his skin tingling.

 

“not forward enough, I think. you’re welcome to find out the answers to all those thoughts, though,” Harry typed out. “Just say the word. xx”

 

The seconds that ticked by felt like hours, and Harry was getting jittery just at the thought of Louis’ mouth on his, on his body. Then he thought about his own mouth getting to explore Louis’ tanned skin, and he mumbled an excuse to Niall before he stumbled off to the bathroom. He barely closed the door behind him before his phone went off in his hand again.

 

“Sounds like you’re trying to distract me, Curly. Can’t say I quite mind, however. If anyone’s worth getting a semi in public over, it’s you,” Louis’ message read. Harry mumbled it aloud to himself a few times as he stood in front of the sink, trying to make sure he was reading it correctly.

 

Harry’s head was spinning, and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the alcohol or how quickly this was all moving. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to sexting. He’d learned from experience to never put his face in nudes; he knew his angles; he knew his way around a camera; he knew what words got his own blood pumping, so he thought he had a decent idea about how to return the favor. Hell, apparently just a close-up of his lips and fingers was enough to leave Louis wanting more.

 

It seemed a bit strange that they were essentially strangers, sexting, and he couldn’t explain it, but… He trusted Louis. He didn’t feel any concern for if his texts and pictures were being kept between just the two of them. He could tell that, while Louis could be pretentious at times, he wasn’t a sleaze. Maybe that made him naïve, or maybe it meant he knew when to trust his gut.

 

That’s what made what he was about to do that much easier. Harry leaned back against the counter, palming himself through his jeans as his erection grew. He sucked in his bottom lip and imagined it was Louis rubbing back against him. Imagined he had Louis pinned against the wall or Louis had him pinned on the bed. Imagined Louis was whispering dirty things in his ear. Imagined what Louis would look like unraveled. He felt his bulge starting to strain against his zipper, and he opened the camera on his phone. He placed his left hand, palm down, around his clothed hard-on. He left his fingers open, forming an upside-down L around his bulge. He snapped a few pictures with his right hand, and as he pulled his phone up to pick the best one he willed himself to stop applying pressure to his cock. He might be sexually frustrated, but he was not about to masturbate with his best mate waiting on him in the other room.

 

Harry only scrolled a couple pictures over before he found the perfect one. His cross tattoo was visible, his rings were in focus, and, most importantly, his bulge was very prominent between his fingers. He could feel himself sweating a bit as he added the picture to a new message to Louis. He tried to clear his head to think of a witty caption, but all he could think about was how hard he already was and how Louis was potentially getting hard as well—at his office—just from thinking about Harry.

 

“sounds like quite a predicament. I’m all alone. xx” Harry captioned it, wetting his lips as he pressed send. Sure, Niall was in the other room, but, if Harry knew him at all, he was either busy yelling alongside Gordon Ramsay or he was passed out on the couch till morning.

 

Harry took a few moments to splash some water on his face, suddenly feeling warm all over. He shook his head a bit at his reflection, wondering how in the hell he ended up here. A week ago Louis Tomlinson didn’t exist in Harry’s life, and now he was all Harry could think about. When he was at work, he was always subconsciously on-guard for Louis to walk in. At the beginning it was because Louis annoyed the absolute fuck out of him, but even when he left work, still a bit agitated hours later, the then-stranger Louis plagued his thoughts when he was trying to relax at home or when he was trying to fall asleep. Harry knew he should have felt relieved when a day would pass at work and Louis hadn’t shown, and he did, but… he couldn’t ignore the way his body tensed and his heart raced the moment he’d see Louis walk into the shop. In the beginning he wrote it off as rage at the way Louis would babble into his phone while simultaneously being a dick to Harry and looking like he was _enjoying_ it. However, when Harry could feel himself getting _jealous_ at the sight of Louis talking to and touching someone else—silly Liam—he knew he was losing it. Must be going completely mad. He hadn’t even had a conversation with Louis at that point, and he had no right to feel like Louis shouldn’t be doing those things with someone. So, when Louis asked him for his number and Harry surprisingly didn’t laugh or faint, he considered it a good sign.

 

Harry was dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of his ringtone going off. Instead of a message icon waiting for him on the screen, his phone continued to ring as he slowly realized Louis was in fact _calling_ him. Harry was seconds away from panicking when he remembered what Niall had said to him earlier; he was the one who normally did the flustering. He isn’t scared; he can hold his own, or at least try to... After wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he grabbed his phone and answered it on the last ring.

 

“Hello?” Harry tried so damn hard to sound nonchalant.

 

“Hiya, love. How are you?” Louis asked.

 

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to process what’s happening. He could hear what sounded like a door opening and closing in the background on Louis’ end, and he wasn’t sure if Louis was taunting him or just unable to talk at the moment.

 

“I—I’m good. How are you?” Harry stared at his reflection above the sink while his heartbeat refused to slow.

 

“A bit flustered if I’m being honest. From that photo it seems like you might be a bit worse off than me, though.”

 

Blushing, Harry was glad Louis couldn’t see him grin at his reflection.

 

“Aren’t you at work, Louis?”

 

“Had to step out for an important call in my office.”

 

Harry waited for him to continue but was met with silence. He could feel himself starting to sober up just a little bit, and he realized _he_ is the important call.

 

“Is that so? Hope I’m not… distracting you too much. I know how important your other phone calls are.” Harry thought back on all the times Louis had placed his order while also talking on the phone. He thought about how much Louis raised his blood pressure and how infuriating it was when Louis had called him Curly, but then he thought about Louis holding onto his hair and calling him Curly in a completely different situation. He took a shaky breath.

 

“Are you touching yourself?” Louis replied, not even whispering. Harry was more than a little taken aback, his eyelids closing automatically.

 

“No,” Harry whispered, grip tightening around his phone.

 

“That’s a shame,” Louis said, sounding almost bored.

 

“I…I can, if you want,” Harry said, palming himself once, holding in a small moan. He couldn’t believe he was possibly moments away from having phone sex with someone who’s never even seen him out of his Starbucks uniform, and he was about to laugh and bring that very point up to Louis when he heard a small sigh of pleasure from the phone pressed to his ear. He was seconds from choking on air when Louis finally spoke again.

 

“Well, I’m touching myself, so it only seems fair, Harry,” Louis challenged. Harry was surprised he didn’t moan outwardly at the mental image of Louis sitting in his office chair, touching himself to thoughts of Harry.

 

“Okay, I—yeah.” Harry momentarily held his phone between his ear and shoulder while his hands worked to unzip his jeans and pull them down his thighs with his pants.

 

“Where are you?” Louis asked, and Harry’s shaky hand went back to hold the phone to his ear while his other hand loosely gripped himself.

 

“In my bathroom. My best mate came over earlier to drink with me, and…,” Harry trailed off, realizing he’d already told Louis earlier that he was alone.

 

“So you got drunk with your best mate and then what? Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you’d look moaning in front of your bathroom mirror with me talking you through the whole thing?” Louis questioned, and Harry bit his lip a little too hard.

 

“Something like that, yeah,” Harry said with a short, airy laugh that shook a bit as he stroked himself for the first time.

 

Louis hummed in his ear. Harry wished he could see him.

 

“You’re in your office?” Harry asked, not letting the teasing go one-way.

 

“Yeah, couldn’t quite focus on the work, so I decided to take matters into my own hands—pun intended,” Louis replied. Harry would never have guessed that Louis was also touching himself; he sounded completely casual. He didn’t really like that--he wanted to hear him.

 

“Mmm, the great Louis Tomlinson so distracted by the one and only Harry Styles that he has to hide out in his office for phone sex and a wank,” Harry said, wetting his lips.

 

“And how exactly did you find out my last name, Curly?”

 

Harry’s eyes popped open to his reddening face in the mirror as he scrambled to think of an excuse.

 

“I—we—uh, I told Niall—my best mate—about giving you my number and he… he wanted to see what you looked like, so he searched Facebook till he found your page… then your Instagram…,” Harry’s chest was tight and his muscles tensed; he pulled his hand off himself to nervously run It through his hair because _shit_ what if he’d just ruined it.

 

“Find anything interesting?” Louis sounded amused and not creeped out. Harry’s shoulders sagged a bit with relief.

 

“Well, you look fit as hell in swim trunks,” Harry joked, and Louis laughed in his ear. His stomach did a little flip at the sound of it.

 

“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for summer,” Louis replied, and Harry tried to ignore the fact that summer was two months away and Louis was potentially implying they’d still be hanging out then.

 

“So, what was that you said about talking me through some things?”

 

“Right to the point, aren’t we, Curly? Hmm, okay. Do you have any lube?”

 

Harry was sure his gulp had to be audible. His cock twitched as he pulled open a drawer next to the sink. Not finding any in there, he opened the one below it and dug around a bit till he found an almost-empty bottle of lube he’d forgotten about.

 

“Yeah, I’ve got a little bit,” Harry said, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt.

 

Louis’ soft groan echoed in Harry’s head, and he wished he had another hand so he could tweak a nipple.

 

“Do you want to fuck yourself?” Louis asked, bold as ever. Harry felt like he was going to pass out.

 

“Yeah—yes.” Harry moved his legs in awkward motions to get his jeans the rest of the way off. He was unsure how he’d get a good angle to finger himself in the bathroom, but he was so willing to try.

 

“Go slow. I wanna hear you,” Louis said in his ear, and Harry could hear the faint yet unmistakable of someone wanking on the other end.

 

Harry moved his hand from his crotch to apply lube to a few fingers, and then he moved his hand behind himself. He hurriedly closed the toilet seat and set a foot on top of it, his hand desperately seeking his hole.

 

He didn’t realize he hadn’t been breathing until he let out a huff of air as he slowly began to push in his middle finger. His breaths were shallow and irregular, his cock pulsing, and he could hear Louis’ heavy breaths matching his in his ear.

 

“Tell me how it feels,” Louis said, and Harry couldn’t focus enough to catch the strained tone of his voice. He pushed in a second finger.

 

“I wish it was you in me,” Harry replied. Louis growled faintly in his ear.

 

“Yeah? How many fingers are you at?”

 

“Two— _ah, shit_ —so good.” Harry began spreading his fingers, scissoring himself slightly.

 

“I bet you look so fucking pretty, Harry, opening yourself up for me.”

 

Harry rested his forehead on the wall above the toilet, his wrist straining to get a good angle to find his prostate.

 

“You looked so good in that suit.” Harry thought back to when he first saw Louis walk into Starbucks in his suit--black fabric tailored to his every curve with a white collar drawing in attention. He’d been too flustered to get a good look at what he was sure was an impeccable rear-view, and he was mentally kicking himself for it.

 

“Mmm, you should see me now then. I have to go back to my team after this, so I’m just shut in my office with my zipper down and my tie loose, but other than that I’m still dressed. Gotta keep it professional and whatnot,” Louis joked, but his laugh sounded more strained than relaxed. Harry wondered how close he was.

 

“Fuck, Lou.” Harry attempted to picture Louis as what he’d described, reclined in his desk chair with his cock in his hand and his clothes still clinging to his skin. He added a third finger as his cock dribbled a bit of pre-come.

 

“You can’t begin to imagine the things I’m gonna do to you when I get my hands on you,” Louis said, his voice sounding almost possessive.

 

“Tell me, Lou, tell me.” Harry could hear panting, but at this point he wasn’t sure if it was him or Louis. His wrist was starting to burn with the strain, but it was nothing compared the pleasure he was getting from the three fingers inside of him.

 

“I’ll take you somewhere nice, see that pretty face of yours in candlelight, and—and take you to the bathroom just to suck you off with your own fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

 

Harry’s body shuddered at the thought even though his skin felt like it was on fire. His face was practically smushed against the wall, his muscles too weak to hold him up.

 

“I—I hope that’s near the end of our meal because we’re gonna be catching a cab right afterwards so I get my mouth on that perfect bum of yours,” Harry said, biting his lip at the thought of it. “I’m gonna eat you out for so long just to see you unravel—till you’re so sensitive you can feel every pulse of my tongue in you, till you’re not sure what your own name is but you’ll know what mine is… fuck, Lou, I bet you taste so good…”

 

Louis’ end of the line was quiet for a few moments until a high-pitched, muffled squeal of pleasure erupted in Harry’s ear; deep, heavy inhales and exhales followed it, and Harry’s cock _throbbed_ between his legs when he realized his words had just made Louis come.

 

“Fuckin’ _hell_ , Harry, that was so hot. I want you to come, baby, I need you to come for me.” Harry moaned at “baby,” and he had never wanted to come more in his life.

 

The bathroom tiles were cold as he readjusted his footing, all of his skin flushed. He hadn’t opened his eyes in a few minutes, and he couldn’t finger himself and jerk himself off with his phone at his ear. He tried to think of a solution as his pulse pounded in his temples.

 

“Need to touch myself,” he mumbled, moments away from whining if he didn’t get friction on his cock soon. “Need you inside me.”

 

“Yeah, baby, put me on speaker. Touch yourself for me.” Louis sounded fucked-out from his own orgasm, his words still slightly unsteady.

 

“B-but, Niall—he’ll,” Harry panted, his fingers now brushing over his prostate.

 

“Put me on speaker, Harry,” Louis demanded, and Harry’s cock dribbled more pre-come at his tone. “Don’t tell me you aren’t gonna get off on the thought of someone possibly hearing you, hearing how desperate you are for me, for my cock.”

 

Harry mewled, opening his eyes immediately so he could find the speaker button and place his phone on the counter.

 

“Lou,” Harry begged, not even sure what he as begging for.

 

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Louis’ voice echoed off his bathroom walls, and Harry moaned loudly at the sound and the request, his left hand circling around his cock. The pleasure was immediate, and he bit the towel hanging next to him to stop from screaming out. He normally jerked off with his right hand, but that hand was busy continuously brushing over his prostate while his toes curled on the floor. The motions felt foreign and sloppy with his left hand, but it just made it easier to imagine it was Louis’.

 

“You sound so good for me, Harry, wish I could see you right now.”

 

He took his mouth away from the towel, remembering how Louis had said he wanted to hear him. His arms were already beginning to burn from the back and forth motions, but the dull pain just added to his pleasure. He wasn’t sure if he was chanting curse words and Louis’ name out loud or if it was all in his head.

 

“Maybe I will see you like this. Have you finger yourself open for me, show me how you like it. Show me how you look so close to the edge, get you begging for me till it’ll only take one stroke till you’re coming on both of us.”

 

“Fuck, fuck,” Harry cried. His right arm was so sore from fingering himself but he didn’t dare stop. He imagined Louis was right in front of him, watching his fingers disappear into him while his hand tugged himself off desperately, Louis’ hands rubbing over his back and pinching his nipples as he bit at his earlobe, telling him to keep going, baby, keep going.

 

“Come on, Curly, come for me, baby,” Louis moaned over his phone speaker, and Harry came with a shout, his orgasm so powerful his muscles locked up and he almost forgot to breathe through it.

 

What felt like minutes passed as Harry’s mind slowly regained thought-processes and he pulled his fingers out of himself.

 

“You alive, there, Curly?” Louis’ voice startled him, forgetting his phone was on speaker. He could hear the smirk over the phone. Harry grinned.

 

“That was… the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time,” Harry said, floaty. He grabbed some toilet paper to wipe off his hands and some of the come that had gotten on the wall.

 

“Likewise. Glad we’re both quite proficient at the phone sex thing. One for the résumés.” Harry laughed loudly, his smile never having left his face. His body felt like it was slowly melting from the inside out.

 

“So, when might this hypothetical date be happening, eh?” Harry turned his phone off speaker and held it back to his ear. His voice sounded far away, and couldn’t help thinking about what his orgasm would feel like with Louis actually there.

 

“How about Tuesday? Most of my work should be calm by then,” Louis said. Harry hoped he wasn’t imagining the hopeful note of his voice.

 

“Tuesday would be great, yeah.” Three days to figure out what he’ll wear. Three days to prepare for real conversations and candlelight and banter. He needed to find that book of puns he had somewhere in his closet.

 

“Great. And, not that I don’t want to stay talking to you, but I actually do have to go back to work, unfortunately,” Louis said.

 

“I understand; I’ll talk to you soon,” Harry said, biting his lip and feeling his heart flutter at the thought of their impending date. God, when did he slip back into acting juvenile?

 

“Have a good night, Curly.” Harry could swear he knew Louis was smiling.

 

“Goodnight, Louis.” Harry hung up the phone and stared at the screen for a few seconds, his smile growing until it hurt his cheeks. It felt so right.

 

*****

 

Saturday, Harry bought Niall lunch and Niall didn’t mention anything about weird sex noises coming from the bathroom Friday night, but Harry took him to a movie just to be safe.

 

Harry worked the next two days, keeping himself busy and trying not to think too much about Louis because that usually led to masturbating and he was trying to hold off on all that till Tuesday night.

 

He and Louis texted throughout the days, bantering and chatting, but they both tried to keep it PG. Well, PG-13, maybe.

 

When Tuesday finally rolled around, Harry tried to pretend like his giddiness was just anticipating of what would be a night that would hopefully end in a mutual orgasm. To be honest, though, he was also pretty excited about seeing Louis outside of a work setting.

 

They met at the restaurant, both of them dressed in jeans that were likely a little too tight. Harry was wearing one of his favorite button-ups: a nice pink color with white polka dots all over. Louis wore one of his signature low-cut T-shirts with a blazer on top, and Harry’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already imagining what it’d look like on the floor, minutes after they first sat down.

 

The night carried out relatively smoothly, both of them licking their lips too much and neither of them even glancing at a dessert menu. Too many things to be done back at home.

 

As they walked up the stairs up to Harry’s apartment (he’d set Niall up on a blind date just to make sure they’d have the place to themselves), Harry brought up how Louis’ tendency to chat on the phone in public probably isn’t going to win him new friends.

 

That set Louis off into a tangent about how _Harry_ wasn’t exactly any better when it came to customer service, and by the time they reached Harry’s door, they were about two minutes away from an actual argument. They were both too stubborn to admit they were in the wrong.

 

“What exactly was so important that you had to be on the phone while _at_ the register??” Harry asked, unlocking the door to his apartment.

 

“I seriously do not understand what you’re getting at, Curly, you aren’t even listening to what I’m—“ Louis was cut off by Harry’s sudden, hard-pressed kiss. That effectively shut him up for the time-being.

 

“Can’t you shut up for once?” Harry mumbled against Louis’ neck, his hands resting on the wall behind Louis’ head, caging him.

 

“You asked _me_ a question!” Louis all but yelled in protest, running his hands up to grip in Harry’s hair.

 

Receiving no response from Harry besides the quick nips pulling at his skin by his collarbones, Louis pouted to himself. He was seconds away from pulling Harry to eye-level just to give him another piece of his mind, but then Harry was putting his too-pink lips over Louis’ nipples, and his insults were stuck on the tip of his tongue, his mouth cracked open slightly.

 

Harry chuckled against him when Louis let out a breathy moan as Harry’s teeth scraped against his sensitive nipple, and Louis tensed immediately. Nobody laughs at him— _especially_ not when he’s shirtless, grinding against someone who is equally turned on, caged between their stupidly lanky arms. Fuck no.

 

Moving both of his hands to Harry’s idiotic curly hair, he pulled, hard. Harry jumped back in return, annoyance muted by how blown his pupils were. Louis didn’t give him another chance to react; he spun them around while Harry was distracted, and he heard the thud of Harry’s dense skull hitting the drywall. He could see Harry starting to complain—about his sore head or the change, Louis didn’t care—so he latched his lips onto those puffy, bitten lips staring him straight in the face. Satisfied that it shut Harry up, Louis sucked his bottom lip between his own before biting it, running his hands down Harry’s sides.

 

Making a small noise of displeasure, Louis pulled at the fabric of Harry’s shirt. Dumb thing was getting in the way. Harry beat him to the punch, pulling back so quickly the dumb oaf hit his head against the wall. Again.

 

“Fuck,” Harry whined, lifting his shirt over his head with a small pout. Louis rolled his eyes at him, fighting a smile. Instead, he moved one hand behind Harry’s head to rub on the spot he’d now hit against the wall twice and began kissing along Harry’s chest.

 

Harry’s hips jumped to rub against Louis’, and Louis moved his other hand to pin Harry’s hips against the wall. As much as he wanted to grind back against Harry, he was up for a little more taunting, so he moved his own hips back, just out of reach of Harry’s bulge. Harry immediately jutted up, trying to regain contact, but Louis’ tight pinch on his hip kept him pinned against the wall.

 

The noise that escaped Harry next could only be described as a whine. A sad, needy whine that normally would have left Louis nearly laughing, but now the noises Harry kept making were going straight to his cock. He started sucking a lovebite onto Harry’s chest to keep any noises of his own from escaping.

 

Harry was gripping Louis’ bicep so tightly it might leave a bruise, and he only pinched tighter as Louis’ lips found his nipples. Biting briefly, Harry yelped and nearly twisted Louis’ muscle under his skin.

 

“Fuck, Curly, you’re gonna break my arm,” Louis said as he made his way to Harry’s other nipple.

 

“Sorry, I thought you were done being a dick,” Harry said, voice thick with amusement and desperation.

 

“As if me being a dick isn’t what’s brought us to this very moment,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes he wished Harry could see.

 

“No, what brought us here is how good I look in that top,” Harry said cheekily. Louis pulled off him with his eyebrows drawn together to find Harry grinning.

 

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself,” Louis mumbled.

 

Harry moved his hands from Louis’ arms to his shoulders to close the gap between them again. His lips only millimeters from Louis’, Louis’ face was washed in Harry’s hot, minty breath. He must have snagged a mint after dinner, and Louis was going cross-eyed trying to look at him properly.

 

Harry licked his own lips, scratching his nails down Louis’ arms, and Louis shivered in sync to his shaky breaths. Louis refused to cave and close the minimal gap between them, pretending to have more willpower.

 

Harry seemed to know that very fact but didn’t want to give Louis the upper-hand of having Harry go to him, so he moved his hands to Louis’ small waist. He leaned his shoulders fully against the wall, guiding Louis up against his hips so their bodies were pressed together from the abdomen down. He put his left hand on the side of Louis’ neck, bringing his face right back to where they were before, the smallest distance keeping their lips from touching, neither of them wanting to be the first to give in.

 

Waiting a total of three seconds to see if Louis would close the gap, Harry ran his right hand down the small of Louis’ back. Their hips seemed to be unconsciously rubbing in slow, shallow circles against each other.

 

Harry slipped his hand down the back of Louis’ waistband, and Louis’ breath stuttered. Harry looked to find Louis’ eyes closed, his eyelashes fanning over his skin. He looked so in-the-moment, like his only focus was Harry and what was happening right then. His hair was soft and product-free, sweeping across his forehead, and it just slipped out of Harry, “You’re so beautiful.”

 

Louis’ eyes popped open at that, finding Harry’s eyes staring back at him with the softest look he’d seen in a long time. Welcoming.

 

Harry’s thumb swept over Louis’ cheekbone while his right hand squeezed Louis’ ass cheek, and Louis’ eyes slipped close again. Their breaths mingled between them in the small space they let divide them, their hips in a rhythm neither of them remembered setting.

 

“Tell me what you want, Lou,” Harry said softly, Louis’ head leaning into his palm.

 

“Fucking kiss me already, Cur—“ Louis was cut off by Harry’s mouth joining his, both of them out of breath before their lips even met. It was rushed and needy at first, feeling like those seconds they went without kissing left them starved.

 

Louis couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull Harry’s wrists together and pin them above his head or wrap his legs around Harry’s waist until he carried him to the bed, and Louis had never felt so indecisive in a sexual situation before. He loved every second of it.

 

Even more out of breath, Harry pulled back to latch his lips onto Louis’ collarbone, sucking and biting till Louis was holding back whines.

 

“Do you—do you wanna take this to the bedroom?” Louis rasped out as Harry started what must have been his fifth or sixth mark, each one moving lower and lower down his chest.

 

Harry moved back to full-height, a smile forming on his face as he went to nip at Louis’ earlobe, sucking on it briefly before whispering, “Absolutely.”

 

They peeled their bodies apart, both immediately missing the heat and friction, as Harry clasped Louis’ hand inside his own. Harry lead him all the way to the bedroom, no rush behind his movements as he looked back to smile at Louis when they reached the door.

 

Louis didn’t know how he was going to survive.

 

“Jeans off,” Louis said as he worked on his own zipper, shimmying his hips to roll them off. Harry looked at him hungrily while he pulled his own off by the ankle, sliding them down his endless legs while Louis got a better look at those thighs he’d been staring at _all fucking day_.

 

Stepping over to him as soon as he managed to peel his jeans off without falling over, Louis kissed him slowly and deep while he backed him up towards the bed. Harry felt the edge of the mattress press into the back of his legs right before Louis gently laid him back onto it, kneeing up the mattress with Harry caged between his legs.

 

“This is the best Tuesday of my life,” Harry mumbled, pulling Louis’ shirt off.

 

“It’s about to get even better, Curly,” Louis grinned, yanking Harry’s underwear off with no warning.

 

Harry gasped a bit, feeling suddenly exposed, but that faded as Louis locked eyes with him, his pupils dilated and his eyelids hooded. He looked like every fantasy Harry had ever had, rolled into one tight-bodied, blue-eyed, pompous, sexy guy.

 

Louis began returning the hickey favor, leaving small ones across Harry’s stomach as he writhed beneath him. Louis pinned both of Harry’s wrists by his side while Harry’s hips dug in circles around the bed, begging for attention.

 

“How do you taste?” Louis whispered, moving to suck on Harry’s earlobe.

 

“You tell me,” Harry replied with as good of a smirk as he could manage under such a situation.

 

“Good answer,” Louis said, licking over Harry’s left nipple as he slithered back down his body.

 

Arriving at his cock, Louis closed his eyes for a moment, licking the underside of the tip for a moment, relishing in the shaky gasp he got from Harry for it.

 

Staying just at the head, Louis licked and sucked and kissed until Harry was squirming, rasping out for Louis to go deeper, go deeper, please.

 

Again without warning, Louis took as much of his full length as he could at once, pulling off with a pop which had Harry’s hips jumping off the bed briefly. Louis’ hands gripped those wonderful thighs of Harry’s, trying to memorize just how they felt under his palms.

 

Going back down Harry’s cock, sucking with his cheeks hollow and his tongue, well, talented. Harry moaned from farther up the bed, his hands tangling in the sheets.

 

Louis dragged his blunt nails down Harry’s thighs and then his chest, making Harry shiver and twitch while his hips continued to move, his cock going deeper and deeper into Louis’ warm, wet mouth.

 

“Lou—please, I’m close,” Harry mumbled, his breaths shallow. Louis pulled off then, and Harry’s eyes opened.

 

“So soon? I thought you had big plans for us, Curly,” Louis chuckled, moving up Harry’s body to crash their lips together again. Harry tasted himself in Louis’ mouth, the thought of it making him moan.

 

They made out as their hips ground against one another’s, both of them feeling like teenagers and wondering how in the hell they got so lucky to be here, doing this to each other.

 

Regaining a bit of his composure, Harry flipped them while Louis was distracted, getting a small yelp out of him. Louis watched with dark eyes as Harry slid off Louis’ briefs, his breath hitching as Harry blew a stream of air over the head of Louis’ cock.

 

Louis opened his legs on instinct, spreading his knees and lifting his hips a bit. He closed his eyes for a moment, awaiting Harry’s tongue on his cock when he was suddenly flipped, squealing a bit in surprise. Before he had a second to protest, a second to think, he felt Harry’s hot breath over his hole, and his whole body stilled.

 

Muscles tense, his cock leaked a bit onto the sheets as Harry gently raised him off the bed some so he was on all fours. Louis grabbed a pillow from in front of him, clutching it to him as his chest sunk down into the mattress.

 

Harry’s tongue circled his hole slowly, for what felt like many minutes. Always the tease. Louis began groaning into the pillow, his body moving ever so slightly backwards with ever tantalizing circle that Harry’s tongue made. Round and round, so close.

 

Just when he thought he couldn’t take it much mroe, Harry’s tongue slipped right over his hole, back and forth so quickly that Louis’ knees quivered on the bed. Then, just as quickly, Harry did it again. And again and again until Louis was mewling and Harry’s saliva was getting messy.

 

Harry pulled Louis’ cheeks apart, reveling in what a wonderful ass his hands were gripping. He squeezed them tightly, dipping his tongue into Louis’ hole, moaning against it as Louis shuddered and groaned so loudly that Harry’s cock twitched.

 

Harry’s tongue fucked in and out of him, his hands grabbing Louis’ hips and pulling him closer, tighter, closer. Louis began to tremble, his face smushed completely into the pillow at this point. Harry’s own erection was growing almost painful at the lack of stimulant, and he knew Louis was on edge of an orgasm at any moment. Slowing his tongue, he eventually licked his way up Louis’ spine, all the way to the hairline on the back of his neck.

 

Louis shivered, wondering just how many times his body was going to shake before this night was over. Harry’s hands slip up his chest, pinching his nipples as he sucked on the side of Louis’ neck.

 

“Harry—please,” Louis whispered, worried that if he spoke too loudly, this might all be a dream he wakes up from.

 

“Mmm, you wanna fuck me?” Harry cooed in his ear, rolling his hips against Louis.

 

“Yeah, fuck… yeah,” Louis said, rolling over with as much grace as he could muster. Harry leaned over him, his hands on either side of Louis’ face, and bent down to kiss him.

 

Ready with a bottle of lube, Harry handed it to Louis as he grinned, flipping over onto his stomach and spreading his legs as best as he could. Louis moaned at the sight, running a clean hand through Harry’s curls as his other hand flipped open the cap on the lube.

 

Louis squeezed a few drops onto his fingers, rubbing them together and trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. He wasn’t sure how in the hell his life had led him to this exact moment, but, fuck, was he eternally grateful.

 

Rubbing a finger around the outside of Harry’s hole, Louis loved the way he could see Harry’s shoulder muscles move, tensing and shifting as he waited. Harry willed his body to relax as much as he could, trying to stop himself from humping against the sheets.

 

One finger slowly slipped into Harry, tentative and careful. Harry bit the knuckle of one of his fingers, appreciating just how much the pain turned into pleasure.

 

Taking the rocking of Harry’s hips as a go-ahead, Louis slid his middle finger deeper into him, sliding it in and out slowly. Harry gasped gently, his whole body relaxing into Louis’ touch.

 

Two fingers led to three and soon enough Harry was panting, greedily fucking his hips back onto Louis’ fingers.

 

“Come on L-Lewis, gonna fuck me yet?” Harry asked, his “cool and confident” retort being ruined by his unsteady voice, glancing over his shoulder to look at Louis.

 

Louis smirked that goddman smirk that makes Harry want to punch him and kiss him, so instead, Harry rolled over onto his back, pulling Louis down into a kiss before he could do anything else.

 

Louis made a small sound of disappointment when Harry pulled away from him, and Harry couldn’t help but give a short, smug chuckle at that. He reached into his nightstand’s drawer, pulling out a lubricated condom.

 

Louis panted as Harry held eye contact with him, gently tearing open the small foil packet. Shimmying down Louis’ body, Harry slid the condom onto Louis’ cock, both of them breathing heavily. The world might as well have stopped spinning, because, to them, they were the only ones left.

 

Louis sat up, stroking the base of his cock as he looked at Harry, licking his lips. Smiling at him, his hair disheveled, Harry sloppily splayed his arms about above his head, an open invite for Louis. Louis had never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life.

 

Tapping the side on his hip, Louis motioned for Harry to roll over, which he happily did. He got on his hands and knees, sticking his bum out just for Louis’ pleasure.

 

Louis lined himself up with Harry’s hole, teasing him a bit by just circling the tip. Harry looked at him over his shoulder, his lips bitten red and his chest flushed.

 

“Ready?” Louis asked. Harry didn’t know if he’d ever been more ready than this.

 

“Yeah,” Harry replied, nodding just in case his voice wasn’t loud enough.

 

Louis slowly pushed into Harry, both of them tense with anticipation. Louis went halfway before he pulled back out, sliding in a bit quicker the next time. Harry’s short, punctuated moans increased as Louis would go deeper with each thrust, deeper until he bottomed in Harry, his hands gripping his hips.

 

They developed a rhythm quickly, Louis sliding in as Harry pushed back. Both of them were gleaming with sweat, not sure how long they’d spent on this bed, not even sure if this was all real.

 

“God, you feel so good,” Louis mumbled, fucking into Harry quicker.

 

“ _You_ feel so good, fuck, yeah right there,” Harry called, his hands clenching at the sheets.

 

Louis pounded into him, rubbing against his prostate till Harry was sure he would be dead by the end of the night.

 

Louis leaned over Harry’s back, covering his body with his own. His thrusts went even deeper, and when Louis’ hand began playing in Harry’s hair, he almost lost it.

 

Harry’s hips rocked even harder back, chasing the high. Louis kissed along his shoulder, grunting in his ear.

 

“Lou—so close,” Harry moaned, and Louis moved his hand to Harry’s cock, rubbing the precome over it while he stroked it lazily. The pace didn’t match the quick thrusts into him, and the dizzying difference just brought Harry that much closer to the edge.

 

“So pretty, Curly, mmm, come for me baby,” Louis murmured into Harry’s neck, biting as he thrusted harder.

 

“Fuck, fuck, f--,” Harry allowed himself to close his mind off, focusing solely on the sensation of Louis’ cock pounding into him, stretching him and fucking him. He focused on Louis’ hand, pulling him off and making him quiver. He listened to Louis moans, listened to the sound of his cock pulling in and out of him, his hips smacking into Harry’s ass.

 

Harry’s stomach clenched as his shout stuck in his throat, just jaw hanging open as he spilled over Louis’ hand and the bedsheets. He sunk into the bed, his muscles feeling like they didn’t even work anymore.

 

Louis would smirk if he didn’t feel like a wave was about to break over him, his chest feeling tighter as his skin flushed. Harry’s walls contracted with his orgasm, sending Louis over the edge as he scratched down Harry’s sides, fucking into him while he came harder than he ever remembered coming in his life.

 

Minutes passed as they laid there, Louis eventually pulling out of Harry and slipping the condom off, tossing it into the waste bin by the bed. Once their breathing slowed, Harry turned towards him, smiling. Louis smiled back, leaning in to kiss him.

 

“Aren’t you glad my name isn’t that easy to spell?” Louis said, laughing as Harry rolled his eyes, biting back a grin of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> So if you guys like it and want me to continue I can post the next part, which will be most of this + more but from Louis' point of view (still 3rd person)--who has much dirtier thoughts.
> 
> Then, the third chapter will essentially just be angry smut. Woohoo!


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